


The Breaking of the Brotherhood

by The_Asset6



Series: Deleted Scenes and Broken Dreams [4]
Category: Fabula Nova Crystallis: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotp, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Asset6/pseuds/The_Asset6
Summary: Duty brought them together. Love kept them from falling apart. When you’re not in a fairy tale, though, does love always win?***Spoilers through Chapter Eleven.





	1. Tides of Change

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to another installment! Unlike the last two stories, this one will take place during the course of the game. That said, there will be **MAJOR** spoilers through at least the end of Chapter Eleven. If you have not played that far, I recommend doing so before reading this story. 
> 
> This time, we will be seeing the world through Prompto's eyes as we move from Altissia into the heart of the empire. For any "Lord of the Rings" fans out there, the title is a nod to "The Breaking of the Fellowship," where the team finds that staying together may be the most difficult task of all. The same can be said here, and we will explore the changing dynamic within the royal retinue as new developments arise and blame is assigned. 
> 
> Please be advised: this entry was written prior to the release of any DLC episodes and therefore may be proven canon noncompliant. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Enjoy!**

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Altissia was practically in ruins as the Hydraean raged at the altar. They’d done everything they could, but Prompto honestly didn’t think the First Secretary had any clue what was going to happen when Leviathan awoke. Buildings had been uprooted, torn asunder and thrust into the waves that cut Noct off from the rest of the city; the seas were a roaring mess, and there was no way they were going to get boats into or out of the place. Add to that the empire hovering overhead, waiting for the opportunity to take down Leviathan before she could give Noct her blessing, and things were going to shit pretty quick. It was no wonder Camelia had been worried about her people’s safety if Lady Lunafreya woke the sea serpent.

Not that everything had gone according to her plan. It had been hard enough to agree to leave Noct by himself and help get everyone away from the destruction—but evacuating the entire city? There wasn’t anywhere to go that would be safe from this thing!

_For a goddess, she sure does have a bad attitude._

As if in answer to his unspoken thought, the roar of the sea beast rent the air, and Prompto covered his ears against the deafening noise.

“Aww, come on, already!” he shouted, as if Leviathan gave a damn that he was annoyed.

Well, maybe _annoyed_ wasn’t the right word. Wave upon wave of imperial soldiers and MTs came at them on their way towards the altar, and Prompto was past the point of tired. He was past the point of _exhausted_ , but they had to keep this up—for Noct’s sake.

If he didn’t get that blessing after everything they’d done to get this far… Prompto didn’t even want to think about it.

Grunting with the exertion that was starting to strain his muscles, Prompto ducked beneath a Magitek assassin’s sword and shot straight up into its faceplate. The metal twisted beneath the force of his bullet, but the machine didn’t go down despite the electricity sparking and hissing through the opening. It swung around, waving its two blades like arcing wings, and Prompto rolled to the side as he fired off another shot. This one missed, and the assassin was hot on his heels.

“All right,” he huffed, trading out his firearm for the big guns—or should he say _circular saw_. “You asked for it!”

Prompto fired up the machine just as the assassin’s blades came down to shear his head from his shoulders. Flipping it to the side at the last moment, he sawed straight through its arms like a hot knife through butter, letting out a whoop of weary elation as he took its stupid head right off its now defenseless body.

“Wooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo!” he crowed, hopping up in the air. His victory was short-lived, however.

“Prompto, eyes forward!”

Sometimes, Ignis was _such_ a buzzkill. A useful buzzkill, but still.

Prompto whirled around just in time to duck beneath the sudden barrage of bullets that sprayed in his direction with a yelp. He _just_ managed to shake off the instinct to curl into a ball, reminding himself that he was a member of the _goddamn Crownsguard_ now and should act like it. Rather, he rolled along the ground as enemy fire tore up the spot he’d been in mere seconds previously. With a breathless (and slightly hysterical) laugh of relief, he huddled behind a pile of rubble, all that was left of one of the less fortunate buildings near the altar, and reloaded his firearms. He couldn’t help but grimace when he realized he was running low on ammunition, but there was nothing to be done for it: if he ran out, there were other ways to fight. They were all way less desirable, yet it would have to be done.

For Noct.

For everyone.

Pulling in a deep breath and holding it tight, Prompto took one moment to squeeze his eyes shut and muster whatever strength he had before whipping out of cover and firing indiscriminately toward the last place he’d spotted the empire’s snipers.

A few went down but were quickly replaced, if not by other soldiers then by MTs that were all but immune to a quick bullet to the face. It was sad, really, but Prompto tried to tell himself that it was just another game at the arcade—one that was going to be _really_ hard to beat, especially when the air suddenly turned hot and he just barely had a chance to throw himself to the ground when a blast of fire shot overhead.

_Damn. Forgot they could do that!_

Before he even had a chance to roll over and defend himself, there was a sound like a machine powering down accompanied by the crash of metal against stone. Frowning, Prompto glanced over his shoulder to see a pile of armor at his feet and Ignis beyond it, one eyebrow raised as he offered Prompto a hand.

“You need to remain vigilant.”

Scoffing, Prompto almost spurned his help until he realized he actually _did_ need it. He took Ignis’s proffered hand grudgingly, grumbling, “I _was_. Coulda totally handled that.”

“I have no doubt,” replied Ignis dryly, approximately _no_ votes of confidence there. Prompto would have been insulted if the ground didn’t choose that moment to violently rupture beneath them, sending Prompto and Ignis hurtling through the air in different directions. All the breath in his lungs burst out in a painful huff, pain shooting up his back as he slammed into one of the few intact pillars and hit the ground hard.

Everything went dark for a second, and when the wheels in his brain started turning again, it was a struggle to so much as lift his head—his entire body was way too heavy to bother for an interminable time. Wheezing in a few shallow breaths, Prompto groaned as he eventually forced himself onto his knees, almost falling forward from the effort. If the ache in his ribs was anything to go by, _that_ was definitely gonna leave a bruise in the morning. Whatever it was.

Once his vision cleared and stopped spinning long enough to regain his bearings, Prompto cast a look around and realized that this attack hadn’t been from the empire—in fact, they appeared to be retreating even though they hadn’t accomplished their mission yet. No, the ground was splitting in two right down the middle of the road, undoubtedly because of Leviathan’s little tantrum not far off.

_Leviathan…_

The muscles in Prompto’s neck protested sharply at just how fast he whipped his head to the side, his eyes going wide at the sight of the pissy goddess soaring high into the air beyond the water and a small, insignificant speck of black being batted aside like a bug hitting a windshield.

“Ignis!” he shouted, staggering to his feet. Ignis was doing the same on the opposite side of the disintegrating street, looking about as shitty as Prompto was feeling. “We’ve gotta go—I think Noct’s in trouble!”

Ignis seemed to shake off his own pain at that, glaring in the direction that Prompto was pointing with a grave expression. He didn’t have to say a word for Prompto to know exactly what he was thinking, because it was the same thought that had repeatedly run through his own mind all day: it wasn’t supposed to _be_ like this.

The worst part was that it wasn’t the _fight_ they hadn’t anticipated. After what happened with Titan, it was pretty much a given that the empire would interfere, especially in a city that was technically _their_ turf. Even the whole _battling the god to earn their favor_ thing wasn’t a big surprise—not all of them were as nice as Ramuh, it seemed. Prompto wouldn’t go so far as to say that it made _sense_ , because it totally _didn’t_ , but he wasn’t exactly shocked either. Nothing that had happened since they got to Altissia was unexpected or even out of the ordinary anymore.

The fact of the matter, however, was that they were never supposed to do this at all. This was supposed to be a _happy_ trip. Noct should have gotten married. He should have seen Lady Lunafreya before the world went to hell. They should have been able to take the ferry in Galdin rather than sailing out on the king’s yacht from a secret harbor. They should have had a home to return to.

But they didn’t, and there was no changing that fact. No amount of wallowing was going to alter their course, nor would it help Noct when he so _obviously_ needed it.

Seeming to realize the same thing, Ignis ordered, “Call Gladio. Tell him to meet us at the altar.”

Prompto nodded, ignoring the heavy tenor of Ignis’s voice as they dashed towards the home of the goddess. Technically, this was up to Noct and Lady Lunafreya. Even though Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio were Noct’s guardians and tasked with remaining at his side, it wasn’t their fight this time. Their place was here, where they’d agreed to be, seeing to it that everyone was out of the line of fire. Prompto thought they’d done a good job, and Gladio was making sure the stragglers made it out alive, so surely no one would mind if they just…slipped in to help, right?

The universe didn’t seem to agree.

Before he had a chance to dig his phone out of his pocket, the ground quaked again, nearly sending them to their knees as another roar reached their ears. When Prompto tried to spy what was happening over the wall of water, he found that Leviathan was no longer in the air—they couldn’t see her at all, and Noct was nowhere to be found. The distance wasn’t far, but it felt like they were an entire world away from where they needed to be, from the side of their brother in his hour of need.

_This isn’t right…_

“Prompto, watch yourself!”

The warning came too late, but luck was on their side for once. Prompto screeched to a halt, Ignis right beside him, as a building in front of them collapsed into the street. Dust filled the air, attacking his lungs until all he could feel were chunks of dirt and stone he coughed up in the darkness that fell around them. They weren’t alone, though. He wasn’t able to see through the dust burning his eyes, but he knew that much. Mechanical footsteps echoed around them, as though they were sitting amidst a marching army, and the ground shook beneath their rhythmic gait. Prompto thought he called out for Ignis, could have sworn he heard the latter shouting his name, but there was no way to be sure if it was real or a figment of his imagination. So much of that day felt like it couldn’t possibly have happened that Prompto was beginning to wonder if he was still asleep.

By the time the dust settled enough that he could get a hazy view of his surroundings, he was positive this had to be a dream—why else would the empire be retreating?

Prompto blinked, gawping uncomprehendingly as the soldiers and MTs that were supposed to be killing them filed over the rubble in the opposite direction of the altar. (At least, that was what he assumed since he could barely tell up from down at the moment.) None of them so much as paused to glance in his direction, ignoring him like he was nothing more than a harmless insect, hardly worth their time or effort. There were imperial ships in the air, but they were slowly turning around, heading back towards the sea even as the sounds of the goddess’s rage still echoed in the distance. For whatever reason, they were all abandoning Altissia to whatever fate Leviathan had in store for it.

All, it appeared, save one.

If he thought getting to his feet _before_ had been difficult, it was nothing compared to this. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, leaving him more unsteady than a flan in daylight, and the world kept spinning around and around like the worst carnival ride _ever_ —the kind you were pretty sure was going to make you throw up but just left you hanging _right_ on the nauseous edge of getting sick instead. Still, Prompto forced himself to soldier through the churning of his stomach and aching of his head. He couldn’t just _sit_ here!

“Ignis!” he hoarsely cried out, coughing around the dust still coating his throat. “Ardyn’s heading for the altar. We’ve gotta move!”

Without waiting for a reply, he lurched forward in what he hoped was the right direction, trusting that Ignis would at least follow the sound of his voice until they found each other again. He didn’t make it far, though; his foot caught on something hard and unyielding that sent him toppling right back to the pavement with a pained grunt. In a surge of immature, childish, petty, _totally worth it_ frustration, Prompto made to kick whatever it was that had gotten in his way—

Only to freeze in place, his mouth hanging open when he realized what it was he’d tripped over.

There was so much blood covering Ignis’s face that he wasn’t sure where it was even coming from. The dust around them settled in his wounds, attempting to turn them a chalky white, but more blood oozed out to cover it with fresh, bright red. Ignis’s daggers were lying a few feet away, not that he noticed: although Prompto couldn’t see his face clearly, it was obvious (and probably a _really_ good thing) that he was unconscious. His limbs were thrown haphazardly out at his sides, so very far from the poise and grace Ignis always exuded even in the worst of times. His hair, normally brown, was coated in dust and blood and rocks and who knew what else. He looked like death, and Prompto thought his heart may have stuttered to a stop in that moment.

Scrambling forward onto his knees, his hands hovered over Ignis as he tried to figure out _what to do, what the hell am I supposed to do—do I move him or let him stay here or try to stop the blood but where’s the blood even coming from this isn’t good that’s a lot of blood what do I do what do I do_ —

It wasn’t until he registered the shallow, unsteady rise and fall of Ignis’s chest that his brain stopped short-circuiting long enough for him to cobble together some semblance of a plan. Well, it probably wasn’t even _that_ , if he was being honest: _get Gladio_ and _get Ignis out of here_ was a pretty bad excuse for a plan, but he figured he would go with that for now. The rest, as Ignis liked to say, would have to wait for later.

Prompto had a much more difficult time getting his phone out of his pocket than he should have, but his hands were shaking and his fingers too numb for him to feel for the device. It didn’t help that he kept one eye on Ignis the entire time, cataloging the barely distinguishable rhythm of his breathing just in case…just in case.

“—to, you there?”

Gladio’s voice shook him from his stupor; Prompto hadn’t realized he’d finished dialing and put the phone to his ear. Clearing the dirt from his throat as best he could, Prompto ground out, “Where are you?!”

“Some Niffs were blocking the evac route. Had to take care of ‘em. The hell’s going on?”

“Noct’s in trouble, and Ignis is hurt,” he replied as he gently turned Ignis over onto his back. Prompto nearly dropped the phone when he finally determined that the blood was pouring from Ignis’s _eyes_ —his glasses were gone, shattered on the ground beside Prompto’s boots. Time itself seemed to stop the same way Prompto’s lungs quit working, and it took a second for him to notice that Gladio was talking again. “Huh?”

“Get Ignis to the hotel,” he repeated over the static in the line, slower than he usually would in the heat of battle. He was huffing with exertion, and Prompto could somehow picture Gladio sprinting through the streets, making his way towards the one person who defined his very existence. “I’ll go after Noct.”

Prompto hesitated, biting his lip. They didn’t have _time_ for this, but…

 _There’s nothing we can do, not right now,_ he argued with himself, squinting through the deepening gloom at the mountainous waves that still separated them from the altar. Knowing there was no way they could help didn’t stop his mind from buzzing with a million scenarios, each less comforting than the last. Ardyn had to have arrived by now, and Noct was all alone. Or maybe that wasn’t entirely true: he had Lady Lunafreya, but what power would she have against the Chancellor? Prompto was still fuzzy on the details, but it didn’t seem like the Oracle’s strength would do much against _people_ —the gods were more her style. And then there was Leviathan…

_But Ignis…_

There wasn’t time, nor was there much to decide. Gladio could handle things at the altar; right now, Ignis was relying on him— _Noct_ would be relying on him—to get them to safety. The two had been friends forever, and as his advisor, Ignis was both Noct’s lighthouse and his anchor. Whether as friends or colleagues, the prince _needed_ Ignis, and it was Prompto’s job to make sure Noct got what he needed on this messed up shitstorm of a journey.

“Right,” he muttered to himself since Gladio had long since disconnected the call. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to sling one of Ignis’s arms across his own shoulders and haul him upright, the latter’s weight throwing him off balance when he was having a hard enough time standing as it was. Ignis stirred only slightly, turning his head a bit in Prompto’s direction and shuffling forward as directed—but it was better than the alternative.

They left the altar behind. They turned their backs on the wall of water and their friends as they made their way back through the empty, demolished streets towards the hotel. It was no use heading for the First Secretary’s home—the mansion was too close to the center of the action, and there was no guarantee they would be welcome without Noct as their ticket—so they would have to make do and pray to the gods that _weren’t_ currently wreaking havoc on humanity that the others would be so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/27/17: Apologies for the delay in updating. I've been extremely sick since I posted last, and it's meant I haven't been able to spend extended amounts of time in front of my computer screen. I am working on the next chapter, though, and I hope to have it up sometime this weekend. Thank you for your patience!!


	2. Not Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took longer than I'd hoped. I've been extremely sick since the last chapter, and I'm still getting my brain back in the swing of writing. The next update should be much sooner.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

This whole _waiting_ thing was driving him up the wall.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

The stupid clock wasn’t helping.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

No one would notice if it just… _disappeared_. Would they?

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Seriously, it totally didn’t match with the rest of the décor in the suite, anyway. He’d practically be doing them a favor by just getting rid of the thing.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Groaning, Prompto forced himself back onto his aching feet and paced over to the window to stare out at what was left of Altissia for the trillionth time. The sun had set hours ago now—much earlier than it should have—and there was still no sign of Noct or Gladio anywhere. He’d tried calling both their phones, but neither answered and he’d given up after only a couple of halfhearted attempts. If Gladio hadn’t found Noct yet, he had bigger things to worry about than putting Prompto’s mind at ease. They’d lost the light, and Altissia was a mess—Noct could be anywhere.

The thought only made Prompto’s legs itch that much more in his desire to do something _useful_. The day he’d found out that Noct was leaving Insomnia to get married, he’d made a promise, if only to himself: he wouldn’t be that helpless kid anymore who stood by while other people, better prepared and better _trained_ people, did what was necessary for the prince. He swore he would do everything in his power to be worthy of the Crownsguard duds they’d given him to wear the day before they departed and the Kingsglaive uniform gathering dust in the trunk of the Regalia. Even when times got hard—when they lost their home and had to battle Astrals and journeyed into the deep, dark places of the world to find a stupid sword—Prompto had kept going, because that was what Noct needed from him.

Today shouldn’t have been any different. He was exhausted and sore and ready to collapse and sleep for a week—but none of that mattered right now. Outside the window, there were people sifting through rubble in an attempt to salvage what they could of their city; Prompto could hear their shouts of equal parts dismay and relief alongside their tears. They were clearing streets so that they could move the injured and the dead. They were gathering lost belongings so that they could be returned to their rightful owners. They were putting together shelters and fires and food…

And Prompto just stood there watching from the safety of the suite, totally worthless in a way he’d sworn he never would be again.

 _Well, not_ totally _…_ he huffed silently, glancing over his shoulder at where Ignis was resting on the couch. The last few hours had been rough on him, and he’d needed Prompto there. That had to count for something, right?

It was a small comfort—microscopic, really—but he couldn’t deny that things would have been a hell of a lot worse if he’d gone running after Gladio and left Ignis on his own.

They’d been lucky to find a doctor at all when they made it back to the hotel. Prompto had _maybe_ not been very nice to the guy at the front desk when he said all the medical staff had been evacuated, but hey, if it got the dude motivated enough to go look for one, he figured that was a win. By the time help arrived and they’d commenced clearing away all the blood, Ignis started coming to—and Prompto wished he hadn’t.

Potions didn’t work.

Elixirs didn’t work.

Phoenix downs sure as hell didn’t work.

Nothing had any effect on the enormous burn covering his left eye and the surrounding flesh. All the curatives in the world couldn’t pry his eyelid open where the charring had literally _fused_ it shut, his eyelashes matted and bloodstained beneath already rotting skin.

No amount of money or royal authority would convince his right eye to go back to the green-blue that was now overshadowed by a lifeless, iron grey.

“You’re staring again.”

_Dammit._

Chuckling uncomfortably, Prompto rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Just…making sure you’re all right.”

Ignis sighed heavily, his voice gravelly and hoarse to match his appearance. “I am as well as can be expected.”

Which, if it were Prompto, meant he was a total mess. To wake up knowing you’d probably never see again? He couldn’t even imagine.

The doctor had told them not to lose hope just yet, that his inability to heal Ignis didn’t necessarily mean that he wouldn’t regain at least some sight in his right eye, but Prompto wasn’t sure just how much he believed that. The burns were too severe even after the potions had stopped the bleeding, leaving them looking like they were weeks old rather than hours. Still, Ignis was Ignis, and he was so unruffled that Prompto almost checked to see if he’d passed out again when the doctor had finally taken his leave. He hadn’t. He was just annoyingly _Ignis_.

Unable to hide his whine of irritation, Prompto collapsed into one of the chairs opposite the couch and folded his arms, staring up at the ceiling. What he wouldn’t give to go to sleep and wake up to find that this whole day had just been one really long dream…

“Impatience will do no one any good.”

_Annoyingly. Ignis._

“Eurgh, how can you be so _calm_?!” Prompto finally blurted out, throwing his hands in the air and staring incredulously at where Ignis was lounging as comfortably as possible on the sofa. “We’ve got no idea where they are and you’re—“

He only _just_ managed to stop himself before he said something supremely stupid. Most of the time, he wasn’t able to quite catch those kinds of things before they fell out of his mouth like chocobo turds, but he got lucky every now and again. It didn’t really matter, of course, because Ignis was _goddamn Ignis_ and always seemed to hear the things you _didn’t_ say almost more clearly than the things you _did_.

“If anyone is likely to find Noct, it’s Gladio,” he calmly reassured Prompto after a moment. If it weren’t for the way his right hand went from carefully relaxed to stiffly settled on the armrest, Prompto would have thought he was going to let the other bit slide. “As for my own condition… I confess, I am holding out some small measure of hope.”

Well, _that_ was news. Frowning, Prompto leaned forward in his seat. “What’s that?”

Ignis hesitated, almost like a kid who was afraid to say what he’d wished for when he blew out his birthday candles. Broken promises and unfulfilled wishes were kind of the name of the game these days, so Prompto couldn’t exactly blame him. Eventually, though, he sighed at his own reticence—he probably would have rolled his eyes if…well, _if_.

“Lady Lunafreya.”

It took a second for what he was getting at to click, and when it did, Prompto _almost_ smacked himself. It wasn’t like he was trained in the royal art of _knowing everything about everything_ , though, so nobody was going to blame him. Probably.

“Ohhhhh, that’s right—she’s got that whole mystical magical healy stuff, right?”

A pause. “…For lack of more sophisticated terminology at present, that _is_ essentially the gist of it.”

Leave it to Ignis to find some way to point out his inadequacies while still agreeing with him. Clearly, his injury wasn’t affecting him _that_ badly.

“You think it’ll help?” asked Prompto, trying to keep his skepticism to a minimum. “I thought that only worked on the Starscourge.”

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Ignis countered, “Her abilities are of most use to those suffering from ailments related to the darkness that plagues our world, yes. As there is little else to explain my own condition, however, it _is_ as likely to help as anything else we might try.”

There was no arguing with that one: nothing else worked, so hey, it was worth a shot. Even if it wasn’t, Prompto wasn’t about to rain on Ignis’s parade. The guy had to keep hope alive, right? That was sort of the Oracle’s _job_ —that much he knew. She wasn’t merely someone who went around healing the sick and looking smoking hot doing it (not that he was about to tell Noct that in this or _any_ lifetime). Just seeing her face or hearing her voice gave people hope and the strength to carry on. That was worth more than a real cure sometimes. He’d found that out himself when they’d written to each other all those years ago.

Prompto was still thinking back to those days, wondering without much faith if they would ever feel like the innocent kids they’d been back then again, when heavy footsteps echoed in the hall outside and a loud _bang_ shook the door as someone practically kicked it down. He’d never been much of a runner despite years of trying, but he was pretty sure he should get a gold medal for how quick he made it from his chair to the door. It would make up for the way he threw it open and promptly froze on the threshold, everything inside him going cold all at once.

“Move,” grunted Gladio, shoving past him and making a beeline for the bed.

“Did you find him, Gladio?” demanded Ignis as though from the opposite end of a tunnel in the middle of a rainstorm even Ramuh would be afraid of.

Gladio wasn’t forthcoming with a response, so Prompto answered in the affirmative for him. He’d definitely found the prince, that was for sure. After besting two gods and half the empire’s army, though...Prompto had to admit he’d have thought Noct would be in better shape.

Instead, he was unconscious in Gladio’s arms, wrapped up in the latter’s jacket against the chill that had settled over Altissia in the gathering dark. His clothes were waterlogged and his hair was plastered to his forehead, drops of water streaming down his neck to vanish beneath his shirt. Noct had always been paler than anyone Prompto had ever seen, but his skin was downright _white_ against his black attire. The only color to be found in his face was the slight bluish tinge to his lips and the twin black arches where his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks. If he weren’t shivering beneath his clothes _and_ what Gladio had loaned him, Prompto would have thought the worst.

Really, he should have thought the worst anyway.

“Give me a hand here, Prompto.”

“R-right,” he stammered, forcing himself into action. Now wasn’t the time to stand around doing nothing!

The next few minutes—hours?—days?—passed in a hazy blur of motion. Prompto stripped off Noct’s jacket, shoes, and socks while Gladio retreated to the bathroom. When he returned a moment later, it was with all the towels they had. He tossed one to Prompto, and the two of them hastened to scrub the water out of Noct’s skin and hair before he caught an even deeper cold than he probably already had. For a while, they didn’t say anything, working in silence as Ignis hovered on the periphery of Prompto’s vision like a ghost. It took him too long to realize what hell it must be for him to not be able to see what was going on, to not _really_ know whether Noct was all right. (Prompto and Gladio didn’t even know that, and _they_ could see just fine.) Ignis had always been the one at the fore when it came to taking care of the prince; this was supposed to be _his_ job.

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

By the time they had Noct settled under the covers, finally beginning to look like a living person again, the energy Prompto had somehow located before began to fail him, and he trudged over to the couch to collapse in a heap. _Everything_ hurt— _everything_ was aching. Man, what he wouldn’t give to just pass out…

“Shit, Iggy, what the hell happened to you?”

_Ooooooooof course._

“Never mind that right now,” Ignis waved him off impatiently, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Prompto, realizing _why_ , hauled himself up and guided Ignis over to one of the chairs, which he sank into with a nod of grudging thanks. “What happened after we lost contact?”

Gladio looked like he might resist the change in subject, but apparently he was too tired to argue as he found his way into a chair of his own and exhaled whatever impetus to protect Noct had kept him going all this time. It was the most worn out Prompto had ever seen him.

“Everything’s a mess out there,” began Gladio, shaking his head. “I got to the Altar, but Noct already had help. _Titan_.”

“The Archaean came to his aid?” breathed Ignis.

Gladio grunted in affirmation. “Yup. My guess is Leviathan wasn’t feeling too generous, so he stepped in to remind her what her duty is.”

Prompto thought back to the events of that day, how they’d had to dodge scores of the Hydraean’s attacks on the way to the altar, and shuddered. If Leviathan’s job was to _help_ Noct, how the hell did she get it _that_ wrong?

“Would’ve gotten Noct out sooner, but Titan raised a wall to keep the water in when it all fell apart. Took forever to find him after that—too much rubble.”

It was obvious Gladio didn’t plan to regale them with the whole story, but Ignis devoured every word and then questioned him for even more. He was ravenous for news about how Altissia was faring in the wake of the rite—the wall of water coming down, the enormous stacks of debris that piled up all over the place, the flooded streets and buildings—and the aftermath of Noct’s battle. He wanted to know exactly how Gladio had found the prince, floating in one of the canals on the other side of the city, and gotten him back to the Leville in one soggy piece. Gladio did his best to accommodate him, whatever it cost him to do it, but Ignis was never satisfied.

There was one subject, however, he seemed to avoid like the Scourge. Knowing he was only delaying the inevitable, Prompto eventually cleared his throat and asked for himself.

“So, uh…where’s Lady Lunafreya?”

Prompto would be glad until the day he died that Ignis never had to witness the pained expression of grief and guilt that crossed Gladio’s face, or the glance he shot at Noct where he was completely unaware of their conversation across the suite. In a way, he envied him that: Ignis wouldn’t have to see the tough, _strong_ Gladiolus Amicitia look so lost.

For an interminable minute, Gladio couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, which was in itself a response. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled something out that Prompto couldn’t quite see, and stared down at it in the palm of his hand. He didn’t meet either of their eyes when he quietly informed them, “She fulfilled her calling.”

Ignis stiffened in his seat for the briefest moment before slumping forward and dropping his forehead into his hands in a show of hopelessness Prompto didn’t think he was capable of. This was _Ignis_ they were talking about! He was never at a loss for answers, even if they weren’t always the easiest to hear; he was the one who kept them going even when it seemed like it would be so much easier to just _stop_.

But their last hope was gone, and he was the one who would never see the light of day or any of their faces ever again.

It seemed to cost Gladio a great effort, but he stood up and appeared to gather himself. The moment was hardly longer than the blink of an eye, yet it was enough to give Prompto a clear glimpse of what it was Gladio was holding: the Ring of the Lucii. King Regis’s legacy and Noct’s birthright. The whole damn key to the Crystal and the empire and _everything_ —right there in the palm of Gladio’s hand.

He strode past them in silence, looking for all the world like the ring weighed far more than the heaviest sword, and approached the bed. Noct didn’t stir as Gladio reached down and placed the ring in his left hand, closing the prince’s fist around it. Maybe it would have been best for one of them to hang onto it for safekeeping until he woke up, but Prompto wasn’t about to tell Gladio that. The ring was Noct’s. His grasp was where it belonged.

Taking a deep breath, Gladio made a valiant attempt to smile that only failed by a hair as he returned to his seat and cautiously inquired, “So, I told you _my_ story. What the hell happened to you?”

Prompto opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. It felt like a garula was sitting on his chest, weighing him down until the only thing in the world was pain: for Lady Lunafreya’s fate, for Gladio being forced to bear witness, for Ignis’s eyes, for Noct’s grief when he woke up—for his _own_. How was he supposed to put _all that_ into words?

Ultimately, he didn’t have to. As always, Ignis seemed to know exactly what to say.

“Nothing. Just a small sacrifice in the greater battle.”

 

***

 

There was no way Prompto was going to deny Ignis something he desired when he so _rarely_ asked for anything. But goddamn, how hard was it to find sunglasses in this city?

Yeah, okay, so maybe people were sorta busy piecing the shattered remains of their lives back together, but seriously— _one pair of sunglasses_? They totally shouldn’t have been so hard to find, and Prompto was _really_ trying. He’d scoured the city for a couple of hours already; a few of the shops furthest from the destruction had reopened, stocking plenty of food and clothes for people who had no homes left. Prompto thought they’d be a good enough spot to start, but they were having enough trouble keeping the necessities on the shelves. When he’d asked one of the clerks about sunglasses, they’d stared at him like an MT was growing out of his face. He’d figured out pretty quick that if he was going to do this, he probably shouldn’t bother asking anyone else for help—they had bigger fish to fry.

The thought sent a pang of sadness shooting through his stomach, and Prompto sighed heavily as he stopped by the gondola. In the last couple of days since Leviathan ripped Altissia to shreds, Noct hadn’t budged an inch. They’d tried everything just short of shaking the hell out of him—which Gladio briefly considered and Ignis strictly forbid—but he was dead to the world for now. Well, not _dead_ , but close enough. He was breathing and some color had returned to his face after those first few hours, but otherwise, he was the same as he’d been when Gladio had found him. Until he woke up, there really wasn’t much the three of them could do. It wasn’t like they could just ditch him here and keep going, after all.

So, they found little things to occupy their time and tried to help out where they could. Gladio had been spending most of the wait outside their hotel room, putting those ridiculous muscles of his to use. There was plenty for him to help with—moving debris, lifting the injured, hauling supplies, you name it. Besides, he said it was the least they could do after they…sorta kinda…wrecked the city.

Ignis, on the other hand, was going out of his mind between boredom and impatience for Noct to awaken. He hadn’t left the hotel since the incident, and Prompto honestly didn’t blame him for a second. _Ignis_ couldn’t see what he looked like, but he had to know it wasn’t pretty. Based on the way he would gingerly poke at his wounds when he thought they weren’t looking (spoiler alert: _they were_ ), it caused him enough pain that he had to be aware it didn’t look right. Neither Prompto nor Gladio would mention it—they weren’t that cruel—and Ignis never brought it up. That didn’t mean he cared to step out amongst the populace just yet, though, not when he had a prince to metaphorically watch over and no glasses to dull the sight of mottled skin.

That was exactly why Prompto was on his little venture, as it were, unfruitful as it was turning out to be. The more time passed, the more restless Ignis appeared to grow with his injury, and he’d finally reached the point that morning where he couldn’t stay silent about it any longer. It seemed to take all the patience he was capable of mustering for him to wait for Gladio to leave, and then he had turned to Prompto (which was super creepy because he somehow seemed to _know_ where he was even though he couldn’t _see_ anything).

“Would you mind running an errand for me today?”

“Sure!” he’d exclaimed eagerly, _soooooo_ ready to get out of the Leville after sitting there for hours on end. Prompto had done it gladly to make sure that Ignis wasn’t lonely, and he would continue to do so for as long as it took him to get better, but it didn’t mean he _liked_ it.

Ignis being Ignis, he seemed to glean all that from just one word and had smiled slightly as he made his request. “I’m sure stock will be limited, but as I’ve lost my glasses… I was hoping you wouldn’t mind fetching a new pair for me.”

The Regalia’s brakes couldn’t screech to a louder halt than the wheels in Prompto’s head did in that moment. Grimacing, he had slowly inquired, “Uh…you sure you’re gonna… _need_ those anymore?”

“ _Sun_ glasses, Prompto,” clarified Ignis with all the grace in the world. They could have been talking about the weather, although Ignis couldn’t see _that_ either.

“Ohhh… Uh, yeah, I can do that. You…really don’t wanna leave everything alone a little longer?”

“I doubt it will make much difference to the injuries,” he’d shrugged reasonably, and Prompto couldn’t help but agree. Anything that hadn’t healed already probably wasn’t going to get much better anytime soon. “Besides, I’d…rather His Highness did not get the… _full effect_ right away.”

_Aha. So that’s it._

Any number of replies would have been appropriate— _Noct won’t care, he should see what happened, he wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark haha get it the dark_ (okay, that one probably wasn’t great)—but Prompto wisely kept his mouth shut for a change. If there was one thing Ignis had in spades, it was dignity, and he was already testing its stamina enough in asking Prompto for a favor. The last thing he wanted to do was steal away Ignis’s last dredges when he still had to face Noct and his own demons every day, unseeing.

So, Prompto hadn’t argued. He hadn’t said a word, actually, until he remembered that Ignis didn’t know he was nodding and kinda had to. He’d left shortly after that, thinking he’d be back quick—but _man_ , was Altissia proving him wrong today.

Getting around wasn’t nearly as difficult as it had been that first day after Leviathan, but he was running out of places to search when he finally stumbled across what he should have been looking for near the customs docks. One thing there was no shortage of in this city—up until a couple of days ago, at least—was souvenir stands. _Sure_ , most of the wares were scattered around with no one to man them, but a patron was a patron, right? He’d just leave a few gil, grab a pair, and head on back to the Leville. If they were really lucky, he’d even find something that wasn’t covered in chocobos. _He_ would wear it, but Ignis was another story.

Prompto was digging through a stack of sunglasses and visors (with _hideous_ patterns— _seriously, who the hell wears these?!_ ) when he practically jumped right off the dock at the sound of a bark mere _centimeters_ from his ear. Whirling around, he raised his hands to plead his innocence only to find a familiar pair of judgy amber eyes staring him down.

“U-U-Umbra!” he exclaimed, unspeakably relieved even though the Messenger _obviously_ didn’t think much of his scavenging.

 _When_ he _spends three hours looking for sunglasses,_ then _we can talk._

Shaking his head, Prompto pasted a weak smile into place and asked, “What’re you doin’ here, buddy?”

Umbra huffed as if the answer should be obvious, and Prompto figured it probably would have been last week. It wasn’t like they’d been expecting to see him again, though. After all, he belonged to Lady Lunafreya and had only ever come to see Noct when she had something for him. That wasn’t exactly an option anymore.

It wasn’t like a dog was going to tell him what he was doing there, though, ordained by the Astrals or not, so Prompto sighed in defeat and shrugged. Maybe Umbra was supposed to be a sign that he’d been at it long enough for one day. The sun was already lower in the sky than it should have been at this time, so he figured this was as good a time as any to abandon the search and tell Ignis he’d try again tomorrow—

“Whoa, perfect!”

He would swear in front of the Six themselves that the sunglasses he spotted when he turned back to his ill-begotten spoils _so_ hadn’t been there a second ago. They were exactly what Ignis would want: dark glass set in frames that looked almost _eerily_ similar to what he’d always worn. There were no decorations or markings on them; they didn’t even have a brand name etched into the side like the other pairs did.

_Where the hell did these even come from…?_

The slightly suspicious look he shot Umbra went seemingly unnoticed, and he wasn’t going to look a gift chocobo in the mouth, so he plucked up the spectacles and held them up to the sun, making sure there weren’t any scratches. It wasn’t like it would impede Ignis’s vision or anything if there were, but he wasn’t about to give Specs a damaged pair of glasses just because he wouldn’t know the difference.

In an even broader stroke of luck, they really _were_ perfect through and through—not a scratch on them.

“Weird,” he mused, pocketing the glasses nonetheless. Hey, he wasn’t about to ask. If these were some kind of gift from the Six, it was about time they started giving back to the cause, and he meant _way_ more than just some stupid blessing.

Glancing back at Umbra, who was waiting way more patiently than any dog had a right to, Prompto grinned and sprung back to his feet to point at the hotel further down the main stretch. “All right, mission accomplished! Let’s go see if Noct’s awake, huh?”

Umbra let out an aborted bark that _clearly_ said he wasn’t expecting it, and Prompto’s heart fell right back down into his stomach despite its brief reprieve. Seriously, would _no one_ just let him have _one_ thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes on this chapter:  
> 1) Gladio did not find Luna's body and just leave her out there, so please don't think that's what happened here. He simply figured out that if Luna said she'd meet them in Altissia but was nowhere to be found and Noct had the ring, that must mean she'd passed. 
> 
> 2) On the train as you head for Cartanica, there is a newspaper clipping that says both Noct and Luna were "swept under the waves." In the same chapter, one of the people on the train can be heard saying that they "still" haven't found Luna's body and they wonder if she really did die. To me, this said that Ardyn took possession of her body, so there was nothing to be found anyway. If she'd still been there, even having died, I feel like Gladio would have brought her back just like Noct. 
> 
> 3) Ignis's line about a small sacrifice in the greater battle is adapted from what he tells Noct about his injury in the game.


	3. Brothers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies once again for the delay, albeit a shorter one. I'm doing better than I was, but I'm still a bit sick and can't spend too much time in front of screens while I'm recuperating. That being said, I'm hoping to start updating a bit quicker again over the next week, so please be patient with me!
> 
> For those of you who haven't seen the second episode of "Brotherhood" or played the game through Chapter Thirteen, there may be some mild spoilers ahead. Please read at your own risk.

“This…is…so… _awkward_.”

Ignis sighed, leaning over to prop his chin up with his fist. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done for it.”

“Seriously?” groaned Prompto. He’d always thought it would be a cold day at Ravatogh when Ignis didn’t have a solution readily available. “Shouldn’t we say something?”

“They both have things they need to work through. Rushing them may very well cause more harm than good.”

“…Not so sure about that,” he mumbled, though he did as Ignis said and settled back in his seat anyway.

The last couple of weeks had been beyond uncomfortable. Ever since Noct woke up, nothing had been the same—actually, before that. Gladio had thrown himself into whatever he could find to occupy his time, something he never did when he was supposed to be guarding the prince, and had withdrawn from the rest of the group long before they set sail from Altissia. They rarely saw him in the days following their run-in with the Hydraean and the empire; if Prompto hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Gladio had gone off on his own again to do…whatever it was he said he needed time for. It seemed worse now that they were back on King Regis’s ship, but maybe that was just because none of them had anywhere to hide anymore. They’d lived in each other’s pockets ever since they left Insomnia, so that wasn’t it; the only difference now was what had happened the day Leviathan went on her rampage and screwed everything up.

The only difference now was that Ignis was blind and Noct was mute, or as good as.

Prompto hadn’t been there when he woke up, having gone on all manner of errands to replenish their supplies before setting out again since Ignis wasn’t able to do it, so all he had to go on was what Ignis had relayed to him when he returned. The heartbreak had to be expected; the quiet couldn’t have been less foreign. The _absence_ , though… That was harder to deal with. Noct simply wasn’t _there_ the way he usually was. Sure, he was a pretty quiet guy by nature, but there was always life in his eyes and a sarcastic remark on his tongue. All that had changed in the wake of Altissia, though. They couldn’t get a word out of him at all these days. He wouldn’t make eye contact with any of them, nor would he initiate conversations. It was like he was a ghost, floating along beside them all but not _with_ them—not _among_ them.

The worst thing: all Noct’s silence seemed to do was piss Gladio off. Prompto had seen him angry before—it was a given with all the time he’d spent with the prince in school, when it was inevitable that his teacher and Shield would spot them around town and find time to scold Noct for not doing one of his princely duties—but he’d never seen him like _this_. Every time he so much as glanced in the prince’s direction, he would scowl and look away as though he couldn’t even stand the sight of him. It happened like clockwork: he’d look over, his expression would darken exponentially, and then he’d turn to glare out at the endless sea around them. Whatever words he had for Noct remained locked in his throat, however, and it looked like they were the poisonous kind if the ugly turn of his lips was anything to go by.

For his part, if Noct noticed, he made no indication of it. Gladio had positioned himself as close to Cid as possible without it being weird, putting the entire boat between him and where Noct was sitting on the bench at the very back of the ship. The latter didn’t pay them any mind and had spent the entire trip so far with his eyes locked on the distant horizon. Maybe he didn’t realize it—actually, he _definitely_ didn’t since he never would have let them see otherwise—but the longing on his face was obvious. Prompto wasn’t really sure what he could be longing _for_ aside from the ability to ditch all his royal responsibilities as the King of Kings and just make a run for it. That’d be what Prompto would want if it were him, after all.

Whatever was going through Noct’s head, though, it didn’t seem likely that they would be finding out anytime soon. It was probably the most trying feat Prompto had ever undertaken to sit there and say _nothing_ , but Ignis had been adamant on the few occasions he’d brought up the matter: they needed time. To Prompto, it kind of seemed like the copout answer. Hell, _Ignis_ needed time—he was the one who was _blind_ —but how the hell were they supposed to defeat the forces of darkness or whatever if they couldn’t even _talk_ to one another? Hadn’t Cor and Cid warned Noct not to close off and shut them out? That they were brothers, not just bodyguards? Hadn’t they gone through this with King Regis all those years ago?

Oddly enough, it didn’t matter. Maybe he was the only one who remembered those words of caution as they’d left Caem and Lucis behind. Or maybe they’d just been full of shit and he’d fallen for it. After all, Cid wasn’t exactly forthcoming with rebukes for their behavior, and he’d have to be both blind _and_ deaf not to be stifled beneath the weight of the silence around them. He’d never been quiet about his opinions before, even when they were borderline inappropriate in the face of royalty, yet he wasn’t commenting. Either he agreed with Ignis or he just wasn’t going to butt in where he thought his opinion wouldn’t be welcome—something Prompto was pretty sure nobody in the world could have said about him before. Was it just Prompto, or had everyone lost their minds around here?

Gladio, the King’s Shield, couldn’t stand to be within five feet of him.

Ignis, always the voice of reason, seemed to have lost it.

Cid, always the _voice_ even if not of _reason_ , was silently watching the four of them self-destruct.

Noct, the glue that held them all together, was fraying before their eyes and _nobody was doing anything about it_.

 _What the hell is going on?_ Prompto pleaded to whatever sympathetic being or deity might be listening.

No one answered. The Six were just as silent as everyone else on this stupid boat, and Prompto couldn’t help wondering if they were enjoying the show way up high on their seats of privilege. Were they taking bets on who snapped first, or were they just downing popcorn as they watched the world crumble out from beneath their feet? They were the ones who started this mess _waaaaaaaaaaaay_ back in the ancient days, if he was remembering his history correctly, but they didn’t seem enthusiastic about helping with the whole _fixing-it_ thing. All it appeared the Astrals wanted to do was make them go on a bunch of errands and watch them run around like coeurls on fire, and Prompto was starting to get really tired of it.

Not that he was going to say anything. They were the _Six_ , after all, and whatever jokes ( _sorta_ ) Gladio and Ignis liked to make, he wasn’t totally stupid. The last thing he wanted was to be struck down by a giant rock god or a big water snake with a bad attitude—that would just make things worse.

Which meant sitting around and staring and wondering and hoping and all that jazz until something changed. From the looks of things, it wasn’t going to happen overnight or without a fight.

 _“The most important things in life never do. But they’re_ worth _the fight.”_

_Starting in his seat, Prompto looked up from where he’d been resting his head against the side of the boat and felt his mouth drop open so far that Leviathan could have swum in if she felt like it—because the ship was empty but for him and…_

_“Lady Lunafreya?”_

_A soft smile turned up her lips as she nodded, and Prompto had to blink a few times just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things._

_Nope, still there, but she was…different. It didn’t feel like he was in the presence of the Oracle, or anyone at all, as a matter of fact. She was fuzzy around the edges, almost as if she was a projection or…something. That was when he figured it out._

_“Is this a dream?”_

_Lady Lunafreya nodded again, moving to sit a few feet away in the spot where Ignis had been just moments ago. “I wish we’d had a chance to meet under other circumstances, but unfortunately, this will have to be enough.”_

_“R-right…” Prompto shook his head, still not quite sure he could believe his own eyes even if it_ was _a dream, when he realized that he was showing some pretty shitty manners to the goddamn_ Oracle _regardless. A voice that sounded eerily like Ignis’s had him sitting up and straightening his shoulders, almost mirroring Lady Lunafreya’s posture in an attempt to_ not _seem like a totally uncultured heathen._

 _He really shouldn’t have bothered since, barely a second later, a giant ball of white fur hit him in the face like a wrecking ball. Today was apparently one of_ those _days, because as soon as he managed to spit all the hair out of his mouth, he found himself with a lapful of Pryna. The dog…Messenger…whatever stared up at him, tail wagging like she was the one propelling the ship forward, and Prompto couldn’t help laughing a bit for the first time in weeks._

_“Hey, girl! Look at you! Not so tiny anymore, huh?”_

_“She’s grown since last you saw her,” Lady Lunafreya confirmed, watching the exchange patiently._

_“Damn right she has!” Prompto was halfway to throwing his arms around Pryna’s neck when he realized he’d_ just cursed in front of the Oracle _, but it didn’t look like Lady Lunafreya minded all that much as he hazarded a sidelong glance at her. Grinning sheepishly, he murmured, “It’s…been a long time.”_

_She nodded and reached over to scratch Pryna behind the ears. The dog spared a moment to lick her fingers affectionately before curling up on Prompto’s lap with a contented huff. It was a little more awkward than it used to be when she was small enough to fit in the palms of his hands, but hey, he wasn’t complaining. At least someone was happy around here._

Speaking of…

 _Clearing his throat, Prompto tried to think of the best, most_ Ignis _-esque way of wording his inquiry before he asked, “So, uh…not that I’m not honored and everything, but…uh…how come you’re talking to_ me _instead of Noct?” He frowned. “Or…are you talking to him, too? Can you do that—show up in more than one person’s dream at a time? I mean, I guess that could be a thing, right? It’s not like you’re physically_ here _or anything, so you coul—“_

_“Prompto,” interjected Lady Lunafreya, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. For a second, he was positive he must have offended her in some way this time, but she still wore that same tolerant smile. Oracles probably had to have the patience of the Six—actually, a hell of a lot more than that if the ones they’d met so far were any indication._

_Something he said must have touched a nerve, though, because as soon as he was reassured that she wasn’t angry with him, Lady Lunafreya’s smile turned impossibly sad. The same longing Prompto had seen in Noct was reflected back at him in her eyes, and not for the first time he felt a pang of pity for her fate. Who the hell made these rules, anyway? The Oracle had to die to forge the covenant, the darkness in the world could only be purged by the King of Kings,_ Noct _was that king—none of it was fair. Then again, it didn’t seem like the Six or the kings of old were worried about what was_ fair _or_ right _. If Prompto didn’t know any better, he’d think they all_ liked _watching them suffer like this. Given how little he found himself one hundred percent sure of these days, maybe they did._

 _What kind of god would want to put a look like_ that _on Lady Lunafreya’s face, though?_

_“Do you remember the letter I sent you, all those years ago?”_

_Prompto blinked at the sudden non sequitur that pulled him from his thoughts but nodded slowly. “Uh, sure. ‘Course I do.”_

_“I asked you to be a good friend to him, which you have.”_

_Well, Prompto wasn’t sure about all_ that _. After all, when it came down to it, what did he have to offer the prince of Lucis? Gladio and Ignis… They’d trained for years—almost their whole lives—to serve Noct. He had a literal palace full of people who could get him anything he wanted or needed at any hour. Prompto couldn’t live up to that. He wasn’t strong like Gladio or smart like Ignis. More than once over the years, he’d found himself wondering why the hell Noct even gave him the time of day. It wasn’t like he had anything of value—it wasn’t like he_ was _anything of value._

 _And if Noct ever found out who he really was…_ what _he really was…_

_A whine and a warm tongue on his cheek yanked Prompto out of his dark musings, and he chuckled uncomfortably as Pryna nuzzled his face in an attempt to cheer him up. If Lady Lunafreya was able to glean anything from his expression, she was kind enough not to point it out. He had to give her props for tact, though, since hers could practically rival Ignis’s._

_“Noctis would send me pictures with Umbra,” she told him, smiling fondly at a memory Prompto wasn’t privy to. “It seems so long ago now. I would put something silly in the notebook—a flower, a symbol—and he would reply with a photograph of the two of you at school. I was always pleased to see those pictures and how happy you made him.”_

Erm…say what?

_“That’s…uh…I guess?”_

_Laughing lightly under her breath, Lady Lunafreya nodded resolutely. “It was always easy to see. Noctis had a difficult childhood. That, I presume, is the way of things when you’re a child of royalty.”_

_“You’d know all about that,” interrupted Prompto. Lady Lunafreya shrugged._

_“I suppose so. I was blessed with faithful companions, though. Noctis…was not so fortunate.” Before Prompto could open his mouth to defend Ignis and Gladio, she clarified, “I do not mean to imply that he was entirely alone, just…that he has a tendency to shut himself away from those he cares for—those who care for_ him _.”_

_Snorting, Prompto muttered, “Yeah, ain’t that the truth.”_

_Lady Lunafreya hummed in agreement and turned to look out over the water. (Somehow, the boat was still sailing along even though there was no one at the helm—it was more than a little spooky, if he was being honest. It looked like he was the only one bothered by that fact, but he was also the only one of them that was currently_ living _, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have a good reason.) The waves lapped up against the side of the ship, deafening in the silence that stretched between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable pause, though, like what Prompto had grown accustomed to over the last couple of weeks. No, this was companionable—two people who weren’t quite sure what to say to each other but weren’t too worried about it for now. If this was a dream, they had all the time in the world, after all. No need to rush._

 _Still, all things eventually end, and this was no different. Lady Lunafreya sighed, a shadow passing over her eyes, and turned back to him to say, “That is why I came to you. He’ll need you, Prompto—he’ll need you all. My time…my_ usefulness _to him has passed. I fulfilled my duty to him as Oracle. It was the only purpose I served. The wedding…our marriage…perhaps it was never meant to be.”_

_“Don’t say that,” mumbled Prompto, unable to meet her eyes all of a sudden. He ran his fingers nervously through Pryna’s fur, not sure whether he was overstepping whatever boundaries stood between a lowly crown citizen and the Oracle herself as he added, “Noct’s loved you for as long as I’ve known the guy. If things were different…who knows?”_

_Lady Lunafreya didn’t answer at first, and Prompto could read the reticence in her posture, as though believing him would hurt more than trusting in the lie she’d already convinced herself of. The only response she offered, however, was, “Perhaps.”_

Well, guess that’ll have to do.

_“But there is no more I can do for him now,” she continued after a minute, that sad smile from before gracing her features again. “That task falls to you.”_

_Prompto couldn’t avoid grimacing at the thought. “You make it sound so easy.”_

_“No one ever said it would be,” she scolded him gently._

_Sighing, Prompto shrugged one listless shoulder. He’d never felt more useless than right at that moment, which was saying something since he generally thought of himself as an utter failure at least three times a day—four on special occasions. “I don’t know if I can do it on my own. Gladio and Ignis…they’re not doing so great either. It’s like I’m the last man standing, and I’ve got no clue what I’m doing.”_

_With a compassionate nod, Lady Lunafreya pointed out, “You seem to have done well enough thus far.”_

_That made him snort humorlessly. “I’ve basically been winging it the whole time. I’m not cut out for this—what do I know about serving royalty?” Prompto groaned, wrapping his arms around Pryna and burying his face in her fur. Thankfully, the Messenger didn’t seem to mind; she cuddled closer to him and even propped a paw up on his shoulder in a gesture of what he would consider solidarity. For all he knew, she was just hungry, but it made him feel better to think she was sympathizing with his plight._

_She wasn’t the only one, apparently. A steady weight fell on his back, and he glanced up to see that Lady Lunafreya had moved closer and placed her hand right next to Pryna’s paw. Her expression wasn’t one of pity, but of understanding._

_“Noctis always said you never treated him like a prince. It was one of the things that endeared you to him in a world where so many were obsessed with his royal status. Now isn’t the time to see him as your prince first and your friend second—it’s quite the opposite.”_

_“He…really said that?”_

_Lady Lunafreya nodded once more, not even the slightest hint of a lie in her eyes. It was comforting in a way, even though it simultaneously placed an even bigger burden on his shoulders._

_Sighing wearily, Prompto shook his head and asked, “So, what do I do?”_

_“Be there for him,” she answered immediately, utterly sure of herself in a way Prompto wasn’t certain he ever would be. “Don’t stop trying, and don’t let the others either. When the glue that holds the brotherhood together begins to wither, it is the duty of the rest to strengthen its hold.”_

_Prompto opened his mouth, prepared to agree, and froze in place with a frown. Wasn’t that…exactly what he’d been thinking earlier? Could the Oracle read minds or something? He was pretty sure no one had ever mentioned_ that _in everything he’d seen about her over the years, but stranger things had happened on this crazy, messed up journey of theirs. It wouldn’t be a surprise, even if he_ reeeeeeeally _hoped she wasn’t able to hear every single one of his thoughts. How awkward would_ that _be?_

 _Seeming to sense his unease (which did_ nothing _to dissuade him from his suspicions, by the way), Lady Lunafreya offered him one last bolstering smile before getting to her feet._

_“The path you travel will not be an easy one,” she asserted, her voice fading until it sounded like it was carried to him as a whisper on the breeze. “But it is yours to walk. Do not falter, Prompto. You are stronger than you think.”_

_Pryna hopped off his lap, her warmth leaving him cold and lonely in a whole new way as she made to join her master. Prompto attempted to rise, whether to stop them or out of respect he wasn’t sure, but the wind picked up and seemed to hold him in place like a prisoner. All he could do was raise his arms to shield his face from the sudden onslaught, trying to call out—_

“Hey, Prompto. Wake the hell up.”

“Huh?”

A blink and a jump brought Prompto crashing right back down to earth. The sudden shift from dream to reality was so jarring that he couldn’t keep from quickly scanning the boat, searching for Lady Lunafreya and Pryna even though he knew they would be gone. Could their presence _really_ have just been a dream? It all seemed so real… But then again, it _would_ , wouldn’t it? That was the whole point of a dream—it always seemed real until you woke up and figured out that no one could _actually_ eat all that pudding in one sitting. It didn’t make the realization any less disappointing, though.

Neither did waking up to his same surly friends, none of whom were making eye contact with the others—not that Ignis _could_ , but still, the fact remained. While Prompto had apparently been out cold, Cid had docked the boat somewhere Prompto vaguely recognized as being familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the memory when he reached for it. The place was essentially a desert, stained a dull brown in sharp contrast to the deep blue sea that kept the boat bobbing on the incoming tide, and the only visible evidence of civilization was a train station precariously perched on the cliff a few yards above them.

The others either didn’t care about the new digs or had already taken a look while he’d been sleeping. Whatever it was, they were just as quiet as they had been for weeks, as if Prompto taking a nap was going to change anything, and he suddenly noticed just how _heavy_ his chest felt when he was around them now that he’d gotten a chance to breathe. Metaphorically speaking, anyway.

It was the way Gladio was standing on the dock, arms folded and the humor leeched out of his expression. It was the way Ignis hadn’t gotten up yet and was waiting with his cane in hand for Prompto’s assistance, much as he hated it every time. It was the way Noct was hovering right in the middle, like he was afraid to get too close to Gladio but wasn’t sure if he should reach out to Ignis. All of it piled higher and higher until Prompto thought he’d be crushed under the paralyzing weight of their broken brotherhood.

But Lady Lunafreya thought he could do this. She was counting on him. She’d said he could be the glue. He still didn’t know if she was right or not, but the point was that he had to at least _try_. If he didn’t, he doubted any of the others would, and they’d come too far to quit on each other now.

So, he stood up. He reached out a hand and helped Ignis to his feet, leading the way past Noct to help him down to the dock. He shot the prince a quick grin that went unreturned—which was okay. Noct needed time. Prompto would be here when he was ready, just like he always had been.

Lady Lunafreya thought he could do this. It was time to prove her right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on this chapter. Here there be major spoilers past Chapter Ten.
> 
> 1) In Chapter Twelve, if you speak with the retainer from the House Fleuret, she says that Pryna died with Luna. That's why she appears in Prompto's dream. Pom_Rania, I'm sorry that this wasn't exactly what you were probably thinking when we discussed the boys getting some love from the puppies. 
> 
> 2) Prompto's statement about Noct finding out who and what he is, as well as his familiarity with the shores of Niflheim's empire, are references to a large spoiler in Chapter Thirteen. I won't mention more than that here just in case anyone hasn't gotten that far in the game, but those who have will know what I'm talking about. 
> 
> 3) Something that struck me during the post-Altissia chapters is the change we see in Prompto even before he gets captured at the end of Chapter Eleven. He goes from being the jolly, happy-go-lucky, somewhat clueless best friend to actually holding things together and holding his own. I wondered what could have prompted that change, or if it was simply that he rose to the occasion on his own. The fact that he also stops mentioning Luna and his eagerness to meet her after Altissia made me wonder if something like this may actually have happened. As an aside, whether you truly believe that Luna visited Prompto or if it was just his mind conjuring her image as he tried to work through the group's problems is entirely up to you--I had both thoughts in the process of writing this chapter. 
> 
> 4) The letter Luna mentions is from "Brotherhood." Prompto finds Pryna in Insomnia on her way to see Noctis and ends up taking care of her due to an injury she sustained on the way. He names her "Tiny" for the brief time they're together, hence the reference in this chapter.


	4. The Weight of Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Please note that this chapter centers on events from the game, so the exchange between Noct and Gladio as well as the campsite conversation are taken entirely from the in-game dialogue. My own additions are in Prompto's thoughts and reactions.

As a rule, trains didn’t really bother Prompto. Everyone who lived in the Crown City rode the train at some point—half the inhabitants got around that way. Walking took too long and, unless you were Noct with his fancy royal car, driving was a waste of time when you were in a hurry. That meant heading underground, which was somehow way more appealing when it meant boarding a well-lit train instead of trudging through a dank, dark tunnel.

 _This_ train, however, was different. Where the ones in Insomnia traveled so smoothly you could hardly tell you were moving, this one bumped and jerked at the slightest provocation. The deafening screech of metal wheels on the tracks made it difficult to hear his own thoughts as they rattled around his head, and although it clearly didn’t annoy anyone else, Prompto had enough of the frequent jostling after about the first hour. Seriously, how did people live like this? No one thought twice about the fact that it felt like they were riding in a death trap—but they were used to it, he figured. Unlike their small Lucian party, these people were accustomed to the lifestyle that the empire offered. That didn’t keep it from making absolutely no sense, though: Niflheim was supposed to be the pinnacle of technological might, right? Had they squandered all their knowledge on their military until they couldn’t even keep their transportation in good shape?

That appeared to be the case, and Prompto found himself internally scoffing at the irony of the situation. Big deadly empire like Niflheim, and they weren’t capable of maintaining their trains. If they weren’t so scary in _other_ ways, he would have seriously contemplated mentally downgrading their threat level. He wasn’t stupid, though, and he’d seen enough MTs to realize that it was all a front. Even if the rest of their jealously guarded territories were total shit, they had their power and money well equipped in other areas. They didn’t need the fanciest trains and most populated cities—they didn’t have to be _Insomnia_. They had worse.

Prompto shuddered at the thought, forcing it from his mind and settling forward with his elbows on his knees. As much as he hated having to ride this train (and all the time it gave him to _think_ ), he probably wouldn’t have been as bothered by it if there were something better to distract him. That, however, was asking too much too soon. A couple of hours in their current surroundings had done nothing for his friends’ morale; in fact, things had perhaps gotten a little worse now that they were around people again. Prompto stuck close to Ignis’s side just in case he needed help—plus, being trapped in the dark without seeing who was around you had to be hell, so he hoped it was at least a bit comforting to know he was close by—but he was the only one. Noct had taken up residence in a seat across the aisle, and Gladio was on the bench behind them.

The entire situation was maddening: Noct stared blankly at his lap, Gladio kept his back to them, and Ignis remained resolutely turned toward the window. It was like they had all descended into their own universes, where pain and grief reigned supreme and the warm sunlight streaming into the train car didn’t exist. Where _Prompto_ didn’t exist.

How the hell was he supposed to bring them all back together if he couldn’t even get them to _look_ at each other?

_Welp, better give it a shot._

Slowly letting out a nervous breath, he cleared his throat and sat back up. He tapped his fingers together and pondered what he should say, but nothing was coming to mind. Did he attack the issue head on, or did he start small talk and see what happened from there? Would any of the others even answer him if he tried? Ignis was most likely—the other two would probably ignore him and keep wallowing in their own issues. So, heavy wasn’t a good option and light wasn’t enough—maybe a middle road?

“So…” He trailed off uncertainly, wedging his hands between his knees and hoping this didn’t backfire. “We’re gonna roll through Tenebrae.”

Silence. Silence. _Silence_.

_Dammit._

As anticipated, Ignis was the one who spared him the pain of rejection, observing quietly, “Not before visiting the royal tomb in Cartanica.”

He probably didn’t mean to do it, but that one statement brought the nascent conversation to whole new levels of awkwardness that Prompto hadn’t even anticipated. Still, it wasn’t like he could just avoid the subject forever, so he only stammered for a moment before he was finally able to inquire, “You’re sure you’re up to that?”

The way Ignis shifted uncomfortably in his seat was a pretty obvious answer in and of itself, but he was quick to contradict it regardless.

“The wounds have mended,” he hesitantly asserted, his tone less than reassuring. “Eyesight’s a matter of time.”

_Not…inspiring a whole lotta confidence here, buddy._

Prompto bowed his head, as did Ignis, in mutual commiseration. With what they were facing…how was Ignis going to get through without being able to see? They were visiting a royal tomb, and then it was straight to the center of Niflheim to get the Crystal back. If there was one thing the past had taught them already, it was that they needed to be at the top of their game to get this job done; anything less was more than just dangerous—it was deadly. They’d already run into a whole bunch of nasties near the rest of the tombs, and now they were walking into another one without knowing what would be waiting for them. What if Ignis got hurt? What if one of _them_ got hurt trying to make sure that didn’t happen? How were they supposed to get the Crystal like this?

As it turned out, he never really got a chance to fathom answers to his own questions. Gladio plucked control of the conversation right out of his hands, abandoning his seat and turning to join the rest of them for the first time since boarding. There was a fleeting moment where Prompto was proud of himself for finally bringing the big guy around—then the air of contempt fell on top of him like the meteor on Titan’s shoulders.

“The hell is wrong with you?” growled Gladio, straightening to his full (and intimidating) height to glare down at Noct.

_Uh…not what I had in mind!_

Whatever his original motives, it was clear they were about to go off the rails in a pretty big way—and he wasn’t talking about the train. For the first time in weeks, Noct raised his head and made eye contact with Gladio. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

In true Noct form, he said the one thing Gladio _totally_ didn’t want to hear right now: “What?”

“We’re not stopping in Tenebrae.”

Well, that was news. Prompto knew there were bigger things they needed to worry about, but…wasn’t stopping a good idea? Maybe Noct would have a chance to get over Lady Lunafreya… Maybe they would have some time to piece back together whatever was left of their splintering alliance… Hell, maybe they’d just be able to get some sleep in a place that wasn’t constantly tossing them all over the bunk. (It may have sounded like fun, but that only lasted so long when you were on _top_.) Noct was apparently of the same mind, whatever his reasons may have been, because he shook his head and scoffed in a manner befitting his usual attitude but in no way helpful for the situation.

For his part, Gladio was unfazed. “You need to grow up and get over it,” he ordered without caring about just how callous that sounded.

_Get over his fiancée? Seriously, dude?_

“I _am_ over it,” Noct countered as he got to his feet and squared off with his Shield. “I’m here, aren’t I!?”

“Maybe when you’re not too busy moping, you can look around and give a shit about someone worse off than you.” The unveiled anger in Gladio’s tone was underscored by the way he grabbed hold of Noct’s jacket in an iron fist.

Prompto moved to the edge of his seat, not sure _how_ he would get between the two but ready just in case. This whole _starting a conversation_ idea hadn’t been one of his best. How the hell did they get from a comment about the train’s route to _this_?!

If anyone else was freaking out, though, they definitely weren’t showing it. Ignis didn’t say a word, and all Noct calmly replied was, “Let go of me.”

Seeing that he hadn’t gotten under the prince’s skin yet, Gladio changed tacks to sneer, “How’s that ring fit ya? You’d rather carry it around than wear it?”

_Low blow, dude. Low. Blow._

“She gave her life so you could do your duty,” he continued, his voice gradually rising in volume, “not so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You don’t think I know that!?”

Apparently, Gladio finally struck that nerve he’d been digging for—Noct’s entire demeanor shifted, and he gritted his teeth against losing his temper in a show of restraint Prompto would have called diplomatic if not for everything that had been going on up to now.

Gladio didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, shedding his carefully maintained composure as he spat, “You don’t! Ignis took one for you too, and for what!?”

“Enough, Gladio!” Ignis interjected ( _finally_ ). Gladio paid him no mind, not when he had a chance to really drive home his point and hit Noct where it hurt.

“You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.”

Prompto didn’t have to be a member of the Crownsguard. He didn’t have to be Noct’s oldest friend or even his most well-trained retainer. He didn’t have to be any of the things he constantly wished he was to feel the surge of indignation on Noct’s behalf, the desire to speak up for his king and his friend because that simply _wasn’t true_. So, just as Noct growled for Gladio to shut up, Prompto was on his feet.

“Don’t do this—!”

He barely had time to register that he’d grabbed the front of Gladio’s jacket before the latter’s palm pressed against his face and shoved him aside like nothing but a bug. Prompto hit the corner of the bench behind him and grabbed hold of it, only just managing to catch himself and avoid toppling to the floor in a heap. That one small act was enough to cut through the sudden fire that erupted in his stomach, quenching it faster than one of Noct’s spells. It was just a shove, an indication that Gladio didn’t want him interfering—he _knew_ that—but it felt like so much more. It seemed like he’d been pushed back into his place, far below the rest of them, where he belonged. The eyes that had been drawn to their argument sped up his descent. It was a long way to fall, and every muscle in his body seized up as he waited to hit rock bottom.

Neither Noct nor Gladio appeared to notice, which he knew he’d be thankful for later. They were too caught up in staring each other down with angry eyes that only grew more venomous with every passing second—the king and his Shield.

“I get it, alright!?” shouted Noct. This time, _he_ was the one to push _Gladio_ back. “I get it!”

“Then get a grip! Pull your head outta your ass already!”

Noct looked like he wanted to say something else. All those words he hadn’t been able to speak for the last couple of weeks welled up behind his eyes, behind his gritted teeth, and he looked for all the world like he might explode into a million pieces right there in the middle of the train car. He didn’t, though. He didn’t give in to the towering rage born of grief that Prompto could see swimming in his haunted eyes. Instead, he made perhaps the most kingly choice he could have in that moment: he turned and walked away.

Prompto felt instantaneous relief that the whole thing was finally over—until the repercussions smacked him in the face. _Shit, what did I do!?_

“Noct!”

“Leave him,” Gladio snarled before Prompto could follow Noct’s retreating back more than a few steps. Prompto froze in place, not sure who he should listen to—his heart or his friend. By the time he turned around, Gladio was already storming off in the other direction, leaving him alone with Ignis.

There weren’t any words for the pit that opened up in the bottom of his stomach or the way it devoured every ounce of positive energy Prompto had left. All he could do was stare at the door on the far side of the train car as it closed behind Gladio, hopelessly shaking his head.

“That’s…not what I wanted to happen...”

Ignis sighed and shrugged a shoulder. “I told you to give them time.”

“Yeah, but how _much_?” whined Prompto, dropping into the seat across from him and hanging his head. “We’re gonna be in Cartanica pretty soon. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“Then what—“

“However,” interrupted Ignis sternly. His head turned in Prompto’s direction, one eyebrow quirked the way it always was when Prompto did something he found truly, spectacularly ridiculous. For some strange reason, it _actually_ comforted Prompto a little. Well, it _did_ until Ignis continued, “They need to work things out themselves. We cannot force a reconciliation.”

Prompto blinked once—twice—then, “Seriously? You know those two—they’ll stay mad forever if you let ‘em.”

Humming in something akin to grudging agreement, all Ignis could come up with as a counterargument was, “They know their duties.”

Any other time, Prompto would have pointed out that _knowing_ your duty and _fulfilling it_ were two totally different things. How many times had Noct slacked off when he was supposed to be doing something important in preparation for his eventual ascension? How often had Gladio allowed them to be distracted by things like going to the chocobo post (which Prompto _definitely_ wasn’t regretting, but…not exactly on the itinerary) and helping out the hunters? Hell, Gladio had _left_ them—right in the middle of what should have been his mission to protect the prince on his way to Altissia. He’d left. They hadn’t heard from him once in his absence; if something had happened to them, he never would have been the wiser, nor would they if the reverse were true.

So yeah, Prompto really wasn’t buying the whole _They’ll Come Around_ idea anymore. Even if Ignis was right—and he was having some _severe_ doubts about that—there was no telling how long that was going to take. This spat between king and Shield had already outmatched their last little tiff. Admittedly, there hadn’t been a great deal of choice at the time given that they’d been in a giant crater with Titan trying to kill them—but was this really any different? New crater, new trial, but still the same goal.

In spite of everything, though, Prompto still held out the tiniest bit of hope. It was pretty pathetic, but the most microscopic flame of faith was still alive somewhere in his chest, keeping him from giving up. For all they knew, maybe this was the worst of it. Maybe now that they’d gotten their grievances off their chests, Noct and Gladio would figure things out and everything would get better. It could happen, right?

 

***

 

It didn’t happen. Not when Noct and Gladio reentered their train car—never at the same time—and hesitated on their way by to listen to the small talk Prompto was trying to keep up with Ignis. Not when they reached Cartanica and the group split up, Gladio and Ignis heading for the dining car while Noct wandered aimlessly for a while. Not when Ignis and Noct held a terse and quick conversation about the former’s capabilities before heading into the Fodina Caestino Mine.

A chilly silence fell over them, never broken unless it was for Gladio to make some snide remark to Noct about not getting too far ahead. This time, Prompto decided to heed Ignis’s advice and not say a word. Nothing was going to help, that much was pretty obvious by now. It didn’t really matter that every word that came out of Gladio’s mouth made him angry enough to breathe fire or that Noct’s refusal to rise to the bait choked his own indignant retorts. Anything he said, like on the train, was probably just going to make things worse.

That didn’t keep his mind from going into overdrive as they hunted down generators and keys, though. As he’d taken to hovering towards the back of the group to help Ignis find his way, there was plenty to consider—like the fact that Gladio was supposed to be the King’s Shield and know him better than anyone, yet he couldn’t see what was really happening here. Prompto, for all his failings and shortcomings, at least knew Noct well enough to realize what was going on, and it wasn’t that the prince didn’t care about what had befallen Ignis in some selfish obsession with his deceased fiancée.

On the contrary, Prompto was almost positive that he cared _too much_ , and that was the real problem here. They’d all lost so much in the last couple of months alone; they were on a journey that was likely to take a hell of a lot more from them before it was over. In the face of all that, anyone would want to curl into a ball and hide somewhere that felt safe, at least for a little while. They couldn’t do that, though, Noct least of all. He’d arguably lost more than any of them—his father, his kingdom, his birthright, his childhood-friend-slash-fiancée— _and_ had to see his advisor and best friend suffer a likely permanent injury in his service on top of it. Through all that, they hadn’t had a chance to really let any of it sink in. They hadn’t had a chance to grieve, Gladio included unless that was what he’d been off doing while the rest of them were chilling with Aranea at Steyliff. Noct wasn’t mourning, though, nor was he moping. If that was all it was, he would have been doing it this whole trip.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he felt _guilty_. Prompto noticed it whenever Noct’s eyes wandered to Ignis and saw that he needed help to perform the simplest tasks—the guy who was always taking care of the prince had to be assisted in nearly every way for now, and it was a jarring difference. Prompto witnessed it each time Noct took the Ring of the Lucii out of his pocket (when he _thought_ no one was looking and was totally wrong— _score one for stealth skills!_ ) and stared at it like the little band might come to life and devour him where he sat. Prompto particularly saw it at sunset, when Noct would stare into the distance as though all the answers were waiting there. All that was just what _Prompto_ could catch with his notoriously untrained eye. Why, then, was Gladio ignoring the obvious?

Did Noct need to start acting more like the king he was destined to become? Sure, but…at what cost?

Prompto was pretty sure Ignis felt the same, but as the latter was increasingly silent these days on just about every matter, there was no way for him to confirm his suspicions. It was probably for the best, to be honest: the last thing he wanted was to find out he was wrong and suffer through these thoughts on his own. Life was a little easier when the biggest concern he had was making sure Ignis didn’t wander into a den of sahagins or get left behind when he tripped over random rocks on the trail.

It was tough enough already, especially when they had to make camp in the middle of the goddamn mine. He didn’t care if the royal tomb was down here or not—seriously, _why did they always have to sleep out in the open_? No one ever listened to his protests, and he couldn’t help the vague desire to be vindicated by a wayward beast or feisty daemon in the middle of the night just for his own satisfaction. One of these days, it was gonna happen.

Well, probably not anytime soon. The air of unease that pervaded their group was so thick he couldn’t imagine even the deadliest of daemons would be brave enough to disturb it. The tense heaviness was enough to make Prompto hold his breath on more than one occasion for fear of inciting someone’s anger and ending up with a fractured group on top of everything else.

Going about his business didn’t yield much in the way of a distraction, even if plenty needed to be done. There was starting the fire—which no one else thought to do and therefore made it _his_ job. Then he had to hop up and help Ignis settle into his seat, taking his cane from him in the process. Gladio, at least, had been a _little_ more helpful than in recent days there and kept a hand on Ignis’s back to guide him along. It wasn’t like Ignis was in any shape to cook, so it fell to Prompto to heat up cans of food as best he could and distribute them to the group.

All the while, Noct sat in the furthest chair from them all, staring at the ground as though waiting for it to swallow him whole. He didn’t move to help, nor did he offer. That foreign emptiness radiated from him once more, and Gladio couldn’t take it this time. Thankfully, he didn’t lose his temper again—that was all they needed when they were outside in the dark just _tempting fate_ already. He settled instead for a disgusted shake of his head before hauling himself back onto his feet and moving to sit on the cooler beyond the light of the fire. Ignis turned slightly toward the noise, listening to Gladio’s retreat with a solemn expression, but he made no move to stop him.

Dinner passed that way. The hours when it was too early to go to bed but too late to play video games—even if they wanted to—passed that way. Eventually, when the silence was too imposing and Prompto reached the point where he simply couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his camera out of his pocket and motioned towards Noct.

“Took more photos today. You…wanna see?”

“No, not really.”

 _Duh, Prompto. As if he’d want to see those…_ “Yeah. Of course.”

He wasn’t even sure what he’d been thinking, taking pictures at a time like this. He hadn’t really felt like doing it since Altissia, but by now, it was habit. He and Noct always went through his photos every night, usually with Gladio and Ignis trying to act like they weren’t paying attention even though they were _so_ looking over their shoulders the whole time. Those days were gone, though. Ignis wouldn’t be able to see any of his pictures anymore, and it didn’t look like Gladio was interested in anything that might show Noct’s distance from the rest of them. It was hard enough for Prompto to go through them, knowing that although the images hadn’t changed much, everything was different. He’d snapped a picture of Ignis from behind just as the sun was vanishing for the night, and for a second he was able to convince himself that there had been no accident to take his sight while the scars were out of frame. There was one with Gladio and Noct taking down a few beasts in the background, working together although they couldn’t be further apart.

He hadn’t taken any selfies. He’d shied away from anything that didn’t revolve around battles. It was like the soul was sucked out of his art, leaving nothing but a royal archive of emotionless events in his hands.

Prompto sighed, glanced around at his friends with a heavy heart, and deleted every last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, a few notes:
> 
> 1) The scene at camp is only available if you choose to camp in Fodina Caestino before going to the royal tomb. 
> 
> 2) Although I did agree with Gladio that Noct needed to start moving in the direction of becoming a monarch, there was a lot to that exchange that I felt went unsaid. To me, it was pretty clear that Noct wasn't simply upset about Luna and moping about it--his reaction in Altissia to Ignis's injuries and inability to even look in his general direction afterward made me think a great deal of his silence was from guilt. Prompto, being perhaps the most openly emotional of the group, was the most likely to notice this. The fact that he's the only one who doesn't show a clear distance from Noct the way Gladio and even Ignis do (most likely due to coming to terms with his injury in the latter case) made me think he felt the same way I did. 
> 
> 3) The last sentence is a reference mostly to my own playthrough. Most of the pictures my Prompto took in Cartanica were so sad or distant before visiting the royal tomb that I didn't save them. The two pictures described at the end were shots he took in my game. 
> 
> 4) **Slight potential Episode Gladio spoiler** : the released footage shows him talking to the group at camp, presumably after he returns, but as we're still not sure whether he told them what he was up to in his absence, I didn't make it a part of this chapter. (Can I just say, though, that I had a feeling Cor would be involved somehow? Score!)
> 
> One more chapter to go and then it's on to the next installment! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story and series, and I do hope you're enjoying it as much as I've enjoyed reading all your feedback in the comments! :)


	5. Mending Fences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Please note that there will be dialogue from the game directly quoted, whether in cutscenes or battles, particularly from the events surrounding Noct getting to the royal tomb in Cartanica. Enjoy!

The day Prompto met Ignis was definitely…educational. Not in the literal sense—Prompto hated school enough as it was, so he tended not to make _more_ work for himself in his free time—but in other ways.

They were young at the time, not yet adults but not quite children either. In fact, it hadn’t been long at all since he finally found the courage to talk to Noct that they were introduced. It was an inevitability: Ignis was Noct’s advisor and basically only friend, so Prompto was bound to meet him eventually. Still, he hadn’t expected someone so put together when he could barely conjure up a decent outfit every morning. (Yes, they had to wear uniforms to school. No, that never helped.)

Their differences had been pretty glaring right off the bat. While Prompto’s school shirts were all wrinkled up, Ignis’s suits were uniformly tailored and neatly pressed. Where Prompto’s posture was a nightmare (according to his parents, who were only around long enough to pick at him back then, it seemed), Ignis stood ramrod straight while somehow not looking like he had a stick up his ass at the same time. On Prompto’s _best_ hair days, he was compared with a chocobo’s caboose—he would have been surprised to find out that Ignis ever had a _bad_ hair day, period. In spite of Lady Lunafreya’s letter, which he frequently pulled out of the drawer he’d stored it in to reread until he was afraid it might fall apart if he unfolded it one more time, he couldn’t help feeling inadequate in the face of Noct’s oldest friend. After all, they were _nothing_ alike, and it only served to emphasize the fact that he had extremely little in common with Noct as well.

At the start, he tried to console himself by remembering that it was all superficial stuff—looks weren’t everything. However, the more he got to know Ignis, the more Prompto realized that everything weighing on his fragile self-confidence wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Ignis seemed to have skipped the whole _childhood_ thing and gone straight to _eighty-year-old man_ , only he was the type of old dude who hadn’t lost his looks and had gained all the grace and wisdom that most people could only dream of. He thought circles around the king’s most experienced advisors and specialists; he could see and take advantage of holes in logic that Prompto would never have spotted even if someone drew a bright red arrow pointing to them with the words _Right Here, Dumbass_ written inside. There were many times when Prompto wondered if maybe he thought things through a little _too_ much—a little _too_ thoroughly—but he usually discarded those suspicions as his jealously rearing its ugly head and forced himself to focus on how admirable a quality it was instead.

Now was one of those times when he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“This is hopeless,” sighed Ignis after the fifth time he’d tripped and fallen in as many minutes.

Prompto grimaced, glancing over his shoulder to see that Noct was well out of earshot with Gladio following close behind him. _Perfect._

“D-don’t say that,” Prompto argued as he crouched down to grab Ignis’s arm. The latter didn’t immediately straighten.

“Are Noct and Gladio here?”

“They went ahead.”

Ignis shook his head, a bitter smile finding its way onto his face. He didn’t say anything, but he really didn’t have to. It made Prompto nervous—and unbearably sad.

“They’ll wait for us to catch up,” he reassured Ignis, somehow managing to sound more certain of that than he felt. He added with an awkward chuckle, “They’ll probably be arguing again by the time we get there.”

“We can’t carry on this way,” asserted Ignis as though Prompto hadn’t spoken. He frowned at the apparent non sequitur.

“Uh…I thought _you_ were the one who told me they needed time?”

“I’m not talking about them, Prompto. I meant _me_.”

_…Well. Didn’t see that one coming._

“I’m not following you here…”

Deflating slightly, Ignis dropped back to sit on the ground, his cane held loosely before him. He took a minute to put his thoughts together—Prompto figured he was probably trying to work out how to say what he was thinking in the least _whiny little prince_ way possible. When he finally did speak, it was with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration creeping into his tone.

“We have a mission to complete. Noct has a destiny to fulfill.” He paused, shaking his head wearily. “I cannot continue to inhibit him as I am now.”

“You’re not!” argued Prompto in instant indignation.

Ignis immediately countered, “I _am_. I’m of no use in combat. If anything, I’m a liability. My presence puts all of you at risk. Perhaps I acted rashly… _selfishly_ , accompanying you down here.”

“Ignis…”

“It will only be a matter of time before the danger becomes too great and you need to leave me behind.”

Prompto shook his head vehemently, not bothering to hide his glare since it wasn’t like Ignis could see it. “No way we’re leaving you. You’re our _friend_. We won’t just ditch you out here.”

“You may have to,” Ignis tried to point out, but Prompto wasn’t having any of it—not now, not ever.

“Noct’ll never do it. He’ll drag you around himself if he has to.”

Ignis squirmed uncomfortably the way he had on the train, but his tone was still firm when he replied, “Noct may not, but Gladio _will_. And he would be right to do so.”

“The hell he would!”

“His first duty is to do what’s best for the crown. If my…disability hinders Noct’s capacity to perform _his_ duty and he refuses to take action, it will be up to Gladio to do what must be done. Friendship…” Ignis bowed his head. “Friendship is not enough, I’m afraid.”

Prompto didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t have an answer for _any_ of it and could only gape as his mind ran through a thousand different ways it might happen—leaving Ignis as dead weight to be mauled by daemons, losing him in a crowded place and not trying to find him, going their separate ways at camp, Ignis leaving of his own volition before any of them could say anything…

That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t _let_ it happen. He had to be the glue.

Gritting his teeth, Prompto took a deep breath, grabbed Ignis’s arm again, and tugged none too gently until he was on his feet.

“Then we prove you can fight.”

Apparently that wasn’t the answer Ignis had been expecting, because he unsteadily inquired, “We what?”

“We prove you can still fight,” Prompto repeated, nodding resolutely to himself. “If you’re so worried that you’re gonna hold Noct back, then we just need to get you back in fighting form.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

_I’ve got nooooooooooo idea._

Even so, the words came to him almost before he knew what he was saying: “We do what Gladio keeps telling Noct: stop moping and start _doing_ something. Lots of people lose their sight but figure out how to use their other senses to, like, make up for it—sometimes you can’t even tell!” He wasn’t sure about _that_ necessarily, but hey, he’d seen it on television once, so there had to be _some_ people out there like that. “You’re not useless, Ignis. You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can figure out how to fight like this, it’s you.”

Ignis was quiet for a long minute, his head turned in Prompto’s direction as if he was staring right at him. Prompto was sure he’d point out some flaw in his logic, some failing in his reasoning that would make his whole argument invalid.

For the first time _ever_ , he didn’t.

“I…” Ignis hesitated. Whatever he was trying to say, it looked like it might just be causing him physical pain. He soldiered through it, though, and managed to grind out, “I may…require some assistance.”

Prompto blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. Then a laugh emerged unbidden from the depths of his stomach as he clapped a hand to Ignis’s shoulder.

“You got it!”

His own enthusiasm must have been contagious, because Ignis smiled slightly and nodded in silent agreement.

 _We can do this_ , Prompto thought as they recommenced down the muddy path in the direction Noct and Gladio had gone. _We can so totally_ do _this!_

They hadn’t fallen too far behind the rest of their entourage, and his mood was on such a major upswing that it didn’t even bother Prompto that the reason why was _clearly_ not a good one. They rounded the corner just in time to see Gladio pointing a finger forcefully in Noct’s face before walking around him and heading further into the mine. If Noct’s expression was anything to go by, it hadn’t been a pleasant conversation. There was a firmness in his gaze, however, that gave Prompto a little bit of hope. He couldn’t fix everything and everybody overnight, but at least they’d made a start. That was better than nothing.

And he considered it another point in his favor that Noct waited for the two of them to catch up before following Gladio’s lead. At this point, he would take whatever victory he could no matter how small.

When they started heading downhill in Gladio’s wake and Prompto saw the machinery that had been standing in their way was officially no longer an issue, he couldn’t help exclaiming, “We did it! Together!”

Gladio grunted noncommittally. No one else said a thing.

_Okay. Work in progress._

Refusing to let it get to him and more than a little bolstered by his conversation with Ignis, Prompto allowed himself to breathe easily for now. Things would move along at their own pace, that much was clear, but they were still together for now. As long as that remained the case—and they didn’t do anything stupid like start leaving people behind—they could find a way to make things work.

With that comforting thought in mind, he forced his attention back to the task at hand as they descended a steep hill and Ignis needed more guidance. Prompto was careful not to help _too_ much this time, hoping that it indicated just how much confidence he had in Ignis’s ability to find his own way if he needed to, and his attempt was well rewarded. Although it was obviously difficult for Ignis to maintain his footing in this terrain, he used his cane almost expertly to test the angle of the incline and shift foliage out of his way with each tentative step. Pride warmed Prompto’s chest, and for the first time in a while, he _truly_ felt like everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be. Eventually.

They moved cautiously, and even Noct took his time now that they were entering new territory. Whatever Prompto had thought they’d find down here during their journey to Cartanica, the monstrous stone cavern definitely wasn’t in his top three.

“This cave is _huge_!” he exclaimed, gawping up at the roof where it was nearly hidden in darkness _way_ above them.

Beside him, Ignis guessed, “The tomb’s further in?”

“You wanna wait here?”

Prompto blinked, his eyes darting to Noct where he was still keeping pace just a few feet ahead of them. He didn’t turn, nor did he break stride, so he didn’t see the way Ignis stiffened up at the offer. Surprisingly—or maybe not so much given that Noct couldn’t seem to do _anything_ right by him these days—it was Gladio who shut down that line of thinking. He didn’t _quite_ scoff, but it was a near thing.

“Alone. _Here_.”

This time, Noct wasn’t taking any shit and immediately replied, “Not what I said.”

Gladio didn’t respond. Prompto ticked off a point on Noct’s side of the mental scoreboard he’d been updating since they’d gotten to Cartanica. So far, Gladio was still eons ahead, but Noct was catching up fast. If they were lucky, the pissing contest might actually be over by the time they were ready to head for Niflheim.

Fog settled heavily around them the further they pushed forward, obscuring their vision as they trekked deeper into the cave. It gave Prompto an eerie sort of feeling, like a million eyes were watching them and just waiting to strike from the misty shadows. He _knew_ they were totally prepared for that if it happened, yet he couldn’t help the thrill of apprehension that had him fingering his firearms tensely. It never hurt to be ready. Once they’d gone a little ways further, though, he discovered a whole new distraction to take his mind off the potential ambush they could be walking into.

“Man, something stinks around here.” Shuddering at the thought of what might be causing it, he added, “Don’t slip and fall in whatever that is.”

No one answered, but there really wasn’t much time to. They reached the bottom of the hill to find the one thing that would definitely hasten the progress of their healing camaraderie, not that he was all that excited for it regardless: more beasts. Prompto was seriously starting to question whether it was really the giant tree that had gotten in the way of the mining operation here or something more sinister, because it felt like every time they turned around, there was something ready to kill them. It was one thing for them, prepared as they were (even if Prompto wasn’t the biggest fan of fighting)—for a bunch of people who _weren’t_ trained to protect themselves with whatever was necessary given less than a moment’s notice… Well, it just made sense that there was no one down here, that’s all.

Still, there was one thing to be thankful for. More enemies meant more fighting—more fighting meant more teamwork—more teamwork (hopefully) meant more opportunity for Noct and Gladio to pull their heads out of their asses and warm back up to one another. So Prompto couldn’t be too broken up as they picked their way carefully towards the swampy pool he could just barely see through the fog, a hand held out by Ignis’s arm in case he slipped. At the very least, terse orders were way better than stony silence any day.

Once they were close enough to realize the stench had originated from somewhere nearby, it didn’t take more than a second before an entire nest of gurangatches were alerted to their presence and slowly waddled towards the shore. Noct didn’t wait for them to get that far, warping ahead to meet them halfway. There was a split second while Prompto drew out his weapons when Gladio merely stood there, shaking his head in disapproval and muttering something about getting himself killed before he summoned his greatsword and followed suit.

With the two of them thoroughly distracted, Prompto turned to Ignis, hesitant to leave him on his own but also not wanting to crowd him during the first opportunity he had to prove the worth Prompto had no doubt of. There was a fine line between respecting his boundaries and being just plain stupid, though, so he took a step closer and lowered his voice to a near whisper.

“There’s a lot of ‘em down there. You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Smacking his arm lightly in encouragement, Prompto stepped away and turned towards the battle. Noct and Gladio were holding their own, but they were definitely outnumbered. No more dawdling, then.

Prompto raised his guns and fired a volley at a gurangatch just as it was about to tackle Noct. The shot was dead on—as _always_ —and the creature fell to the side, stunned but still very much in play. Hurrying forward, Prompto followed up the assault while keeping an ear out for Ignis behind him. He tried not to venture too far away just in case the latter ended up in trouble and needed his help; he wasn’t optimistic enough to think that this wouldn’t be an uphill battle and everything would be fixed _happy ending_ style just because of one conversation. For now, it appeared that Ignis was doing a decent enough job of at least keeping himself alive, so that was better than nothing.

Allowing himself to shift more of his attention to the battle, Prompto spun closer to Noct just as the prince blocked and parried an incoming attack. Their eyes met for the smallest fraction of a second—it was all they needed to read each other’s minds. Noct slashed hard, his sword coming up just in time for Prompto to slide underneath its arc while shooting until his finger went numb on the trigger. They were perfectly in sync: Noct grabbed his outstretched hand as soon as he lost momentum and hauled him back, the gurangatch’s jaws closing on the spot he’d vacated a split second before.

It felt like the old days when they worked together like this. For a few minutes, while the adrenaline was pumping and no one had to say anything (or, more likely, shove a foot in their mouth), things were okay again. It made his heart happy in a way that negated his dislike for having to fight.

All too soon, however, it was over. The creatures lay dead in the shallow green water, their sightless eyes glazed over—if they _had_ eyes left after everything. Prompto panted for breath, unable to voice his agreement when he heard Noct groan, “Aaand I’m spent.”

_Same here, buddy._

Prompto half expected to hear some snide remark out of Gladio about kings never tiring or pushing through it like a man, but he was oddly silent on the matter. When Prompto turned to make sure he was still alive (because there was no other explanation for the absence of sarcasm), it was to find Gladio staring at Ignis with a strange expression on his face. A _calculating_ expression.

Suddenly, Ignis’s earlier fears all came flooding back, and Prompto wanted nothing more than to step between the two of them. In fact, he did just that before he even realized he’d moved. One minute he’d been in the middle of gurangatch cadavers; the next, he was putting a hand on Ignis’s back to guide him forward in Noct’s wake as the prince waded towards a small alcove under the roots of the gigantic tree. He knew Gladio’s eyes were following them. He didn’t bother returning his gaze.

It was a fortunate thing indeed when Noct’s flashlight illuminated the growing darkness ahead of them, revealing a bunch of gross-looking white sacs suspended from the underside of the roots.

Frowning, Prompto muttered, “What _is_ this?”

“I hate eggs,” grumbled Gladio from behind them.

_…Eggs? Oh shit._

“Do we _really_ wanna know what’s back there?”

No one had a chance to call him a baby or a wuss or whatever it was going to be this time. The ground shuddered beneath them right as the water erupted into a geyser nearly tall enough to reach the cave’s ceiling. When it settled again, there was a huge… _plant_?

If plants had a bajillion tentacles and rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“That looks like a mouth. Is that its face!?”

A deafening roar shook the cavern, threatening to bring it down around them. Over the clamor, he could just barely make out Ignis demanding, “What? What is it?”

“Something real bad!” answered Noct, running forward to once again insert himself between them and the _huge freaking monster_.

This time, it went on the offensive before they could. The creature moved faster than Prompto would have anticipated for something so enormous, opening its massive mouth and diving towards Noct. The prince was faster: he warped to the side and summoned a javelin. There was a squelching noise as it made contact with the monster— _somewhere_ in the mess of ooze and tentacles and whatever else it was made of—but it didn’t appear to do nearly as much damage as it should have. Prompto tried to supplement the damage with his own attacks, but it was like his bullets were flies for all the beast reacted. If anything, they just seemed to be pissing it off.

_Aaaaaaaaaand I think I know whose eggs those are._

Everything people said about mother coeurls and their cubs? Yeah, Prompto totally bought it now. The creature—a malboro, as Gladio yelled to Ignis mid-strike—roared intimidatingly before taking a deep breath. The air suddenly turned cold, and Prompto dove out of the way only _just_ in time to avoid getting caught up in the swirl of black smoke it breathed out towards them. Putting his arm over his nose and mouth, he fired off another few shots and weighed the option of switching to his circular saw. The thing was basically a huge plant, so heavy machinery would take it down, right?

Before he could put his plan into action, he was knocked headfirst into the water. There hadn’t been a moment’s warning, and he inhaled the thick, sludgy swamp liquid. His head swam, he didn’t know which way was up even though it wasn’t even that deep—then something poked him in the side and a hand closed around his arm, hauling him to his knees.

Prompto choked and sputtered, the burning in his throat made worse as everything he’d swallowed came right back up. Shaking his head, he blinked the water out of his eyes and felt his jaw drop (around his coughs) when he saw Ignis hovering over him, his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Prompto?”

“Yeah,” he tried to say, finding that his voice wasn’t cooperating with him. He had to cough a few more times before he was able to hoarsely repeat himself, adding, “How’d you do that?”

Ignis shrugged a shoulder and placed a hand clumsily on his back. “I heard you fall.”

It was a surprise he could hear _anything_ over the noise the monster was making—actually, strike that: monster _s_ , plural! Prompto started putting two and two together in his head, and he wasn’t liking the math because it totally didn’t add up to four. No, there had to be at least half a dozen tiny malboros wandering around now, attacking Gladio and Noct’s legs as they struggled to keep their attacks fully focused on the mother. One of them broke off as it came close enough to Prompto and Ignis to recognize that they weren’t dead, and in the most remarkable show of badassery, Ignis whipped around and speared the thing on the end of his cane.

_Ho. Ly. Shit._

Now wasn’t really the time, but Prompto still whooped, “Way to go, Ignis!”

The satisfied little smirk that spread across Ignis’s face was well earned, but they didn’t have a chance to celebrate. The giant malboro was waving its head from side to side, emitting a low-pitched, echoing gurgle throughout the cave that shook some of the eggs from their perches. As soon as they hit the ground, they didn’t explode into a shitty excuse for an omelet—they erupted into even more of those tiny sprouts.

Prompto swallowed hard as he maneuvered himself onto his feet and pointed tremulously at their newest arrivals. “Whoa! Look who’s hatching!”

“Bust ‘em up!” shouted Gladio, taking another swing at the mommy monster.

It was easier said than done. _Much_ easier said than done. No matter what they did, it never seemed to make any difference: more mini-malboros came out of the woodwork, and Prompto would swear the big one was healing itself. Gladio was apparently of the same mind, because it wasn’t long before he groaned, “It’s useless.”

Prompto’s stomach plummeted. In general, when _Gladio_ admitted that, you were screwed.

“What do we do!?” Prompto dove to the side and shot one of the sprouts in the— _face?_ —before three others fell in line right behind it.

Ever the perceptive one, Noct calmly called out, “This might be a good time to panic.”

“No,” argued Ignis, still hovering behind Prompto. “There must be a way!”

Maybe there was, but they weren’t going to find it like this. Noct was the first to break ranks, waving them towards a rock formation on the far side of the cave that the malboros were avoiding for some reason. That was good enough for Prompto, so he grabbed Ignis’s wrist and started running, the latter keeping pace with him even though he stumbled now and again over rocks hidden beneath the water’s surface. They were only a few steps out of range when more of that black smoke emitted from the giant malboro’s mouth, chasing them towards their respite and leaving a deadly odor in the air. Even though he wasn’t close enough to get a full whiff of it, Prompto coughed on the acrid smell that filled his nostrils and singed the walls of his throat.

“Gotta shut that thing’s trap!” Noct observed with an expression that told Prompto he was feeling the same uncomfortable effects.

For whatever reason, those words struck something in Ignis. Prompto had no idea what was going on, but he was brought up short when Ignis screeched to a halt and yanked his arm out of Prompto’s grasp. He turned back toward the group of monsters and raised an arm to protect his face as the giant malboro sucked in another huge lungful of air (or whatever the thing had to breathe with). His own breath catching, Prompto could only watch in mixed wonder and horror as Ignis tilted his head to the side in concentration they definitely didn’t have time for.

One second—two—three—

Ignis turned slightly, as if looking over his shoulder. “Noct, I have an idea. If I may…”

Prompto didn’t know Ignis carried magic flasks with him, but one appeared in his hand nevertheless. A million thoughts flew through Prompto’s mind: what if Ignis dropped it, what if he was too close to the blast and couldn’t get away because he couldn’t see where _away_ was, what if he threw it in the wrong direction and hit one of them, _what if what if what if_ —

None of that happened. Instead, Gladio and Noct joined him in stunned silence as Ignis somehow took aim, waited for the malboro to breathe in, and threw the spell—

Right into its mouth.

One second—two—three—

The explosion was deafening. Prompto could feel the blistering heat all the way on the other side of the cave. The malboro, for all it appeared to be infallible, let out an earth-shattering growl of pain as its many limbs—and babies—burned to a crisp.

“Ah, as I suspected,” observed Ignis as if this was a normal occurrence. Prompto, on the other hand, was reeling—in the best possible way.

“It really worked!”

“Nice one, Iggy,” praised Gladio. Ignis didn’t respond to the compliment, simply nodding his head in acknowledgement.

“Now, we’ve a fighting chance.”

And so they did. Whatever that spell had done, it totally wiped out pretty much _everything_ that made the malboro so scary and wicked strong. Its tentacles were too weak to do much damage, and it had somehow lost the ability to heal itself. Once they were within range again, they made short work of the beast, leaving it just a mound of green mush by the time they were through. That didn’t mean they weren’t still cautious, though.

Gladio was the first to edge closer, out of breath as he panted, “Is it dead?”

“It is!” exclaimed Prompto, grinning over at Ignis and patting him on the back. Maybe it was a _little_ vindictive after the look he’d seen on Gladio’s face earlier, but he had to continue, “And it’s all thanks to Iggy!”

There was a pause, then, “Iggy, you saved us.”

_Aw, hell yeah! He can’t leave Ignis behind now!_

It was a comforting thought, one that Prompto…wasn’t sure Ignis shared. Sure, the latter nodded in thanks for their praise, but he was otherwise silent. There was more of a bounce in his step and some of the apprehension no longer plagued his every move, yet once Prompto managed to push past the momentary victory, he knew what Ignis had to be thinking: this wasn’t over. One monster wasn’t going to change anyone’s mind if they thought Ignis wasn’t fit to keep going; one monster wasn’t going to prove to them that he could still fight well enough to accompany them into the heart of the empire. It would be a long road, and this was only the first step along it.

Despite the dark turn of his own thoughts, the others seemed in higher spirits as they headed back towards the remaining egg sacs to investigate. Because that had gone _so_ well last time. Prompto was praying there wasn’t a daddy malboro somewhere around here…

“Whisking them just makes a mess,” Gladio observed once they reentered the root-covered alcove. “Better fry ‘em.”

Noct pulled out a flask of fire magic and sent it hurtling towards the leftover nasties. Just like their mom, they went up in flames immediately and dropped to the ground in an ashy mess, revealing—

“I think we found it!”

Noct huffed, staring at the door to the royal tomb. “Just wish they found a better place to build it.”

_Damn right._

As the prince stepped forward to receive his birthright, Prompto hung back. They’d been in plenty of royal tombs by now, and he always got the same terrible feeling every time like clockwork. He wasn’t sure at first what it was that made his skin crawl in trepidation, but the more tombs they explored, the more he realized that it just didn’t seem _right_. The weapon of Noct’s ancestor would glow with an ethereal light, like the Astrals themselves were blessing each one, before plummeting right into his chest to join the others. That was the part that made him nervous: what happened if it didn’t work right? What happened if it _didn’t_ vanish in a puff of magic or whatever it was and _really_ impaled Noct one of these days? He had a vivid enough imagination to have seen it countless times, if not in his waking hours then in his dreams. Over and over again, Noct would reach out a hand for the blessing of his forebears only to have them spear him like a garula. After a while, the excitement of finding a tomb gave way to discomfort with being there in the first place until he hardly wanted to go in at all anymore. This time, at least, he had an excuse.

“That was _so awesome_!” he whispered as quietly as he could to Ignis. Gladio had gone on to keep an eye on Noct in the tomb, but he still didn’t want to be overheard.

Ignis tried not to look too proud of himself as he humbly replied, “It _was_ rather satisfying.”

“It looked even cooler.”

“I can imagine.”

Prompto slapped him on the back. “Told you—you can do this!”

Humming, Ignis didn’t answer that at first, and his eyebrows drew together pensively. Prompto didn’t get a chance to ask what was wrong before he folded his arms and sighed.

“I suppose…” A pause. “Now may be the best time to approach the subject.”

“The…oh.”

“Indeed.”

Prompto scratched the back of his head, wondering if maybe it would be better to wait until they were safely on the train again before they crossed this bridge. After all, tensions had been pretty high, and now wasn’t a great time for any of them to be making big decisions when two of their party could barely look at one another outside of combat.

Of course, Ignis _had_ just helped them bring down one of the biggest, deadliest monsters they’d yet encountered. If anything was going to give him an edge in the argument, that would—in which case, waiting might work against them.

The opportunity to discuss Ignis’s choice passed before Prompto could say another word. Gladio strode past them, Noct emerging from the tomb with the same aura he always exuded when one of his ancestors blessed him with their creepy-but-cool weapons. Both wore expressions of matching weariness, and Prompto was sure he and Ignis didn’t look much better; they all could use a good night’s sleep.

It would have to wait, though.

“A moment?”

The tone Ignis used spoke volumes: it wasn’t actually a request. As a matter of fact, his voice was much harder than Prompto would have expected it to be for this discussion—tough and resolute, sure, but this? Not quite. The others hesitated, turning to look back at him with unspoken questions swimming in their eyes.

“Is everything okay?” asked Gladio.

Ignis didn’t hesitate a moment to reply, “It bloody well isn’t. And I won’t suffer this pointless bickering in silence any longer.”

Prompto gasped quietly in surprise, _totally_ not seeing that coming. He’d thought they were going to leave this part of the conversation for later, as they’d previously discussed. Who’d have thought that after all his warnings to the contrary, _Ignis_ would be the one to lose his shit over all this first?

“Let’s be frank,” continued Ignis, intentionally turning his head to face away from the group. “My vision hasn’t improved, and probably won’t. Yet in spite of this… I would remain with you all. ‘Til the very end.”

Something proud and warm shot through Prompto’s chest, but it was extinguished just as quickly not by Noct’s heartbroken expression, but by Gladio’s humorless chuckle.

“Sorry, but I object. War is a matter of life and death.”

_Oh. Hell. No._

Prompto moved forward. “But we’ll be there!” Gladio hardly let him finish before turning on him, his eyes flashing in anger.

“It’s not about us looking out for _him_!”

“Uh-huh. Well, then he should be free to choose.”

“There’s more to it than just what he wants!”

“I know full well!” shouted Ignis over the pair of them, his carefully maintained temper finally fraying to its breaking point. Prompto and Gladio fell silent, turning back to him. He waited until he could be sure (in some way Prompto couldn’t fathom) that he had their full attention and then firmly continued, “I won’t ask you to slow down. If I can’t keep up, I will bow out.”

Prompto sighed. That’s what he was afraid Ignis would say, and a flare of equal parts rage and despair erupted in the pit of his stomach for Gladio’s insensitivity and Ignis’s suffering respectively. The last thing the latter was looking for was pity, though, not that he’d be getting it anyway. Gladio only allowed a few brief seconds for his words to echo through the cavern before turning towards their heretofore speechless prince.

“What says _His Majesty_?” he demanded with all the sarcasm Prompto thought he had in him. It did nothing for his own temper—just made him want to punch Gladio even more.

If Noct heard the insult in his words, he didn’t rise to the bait. All he seemed able to do was stare down at the water soaking through their shoes with the same broken expression he’d worn anytime he had a moment to think since Altissia. For perhaps the millionth time in the many years they’d been friends, Prompto was struck by just how _hard_ it was to be the one with the big time destiny. Ultimately, Prompto’s opinion on things didn’t matter much—neither did Ignis or Gladio’s, if they were being honest. Noct, though… Everything he did came with consequences, and a lot of them weren’t good ones. What must it be like to live like that, knowing that every choice you made was just as likely to succeed as it was to burn everything you cared about to the ground?

Unlike Gladio, Ignis was clearly aware of it. Maybe it was because he’d known Noct the longest out of all of them—perhaps he was just that good. Either way, he turned towards Noct and softened his tone when he spoke again.

“Noct, you are king. One cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.” He didn’t give Noct a chance to reply, turning back around to continue, “Gladio, Noct _will_ take his rightful place, but only once he’s ready.”

Something flashed across Gladio’s face, and there was a significance to Ignis’s words that was completely lost on Prompto. There was more to that particular story, even if now wasn’t the time to ask for it. Instead, Prompto nodded once in determination and turned to face Gladio as well, setting his shoulders. It took only a few moments for Gladio to see that he would be getting no help from any of them, so he did the only thing he could do: he turned his back on them.

“Have it your way,” he muttered, less angry than disappointed. “We’re still taking a big risk. We better _all_ be ready.”

That last part was yet another parting shot at Noct before he strode off in the direction of the exit, leaving the others staring at his retreating back. Prompto wanted to say something, whether to defend the prince once again or disagree, but the words left him. Besides, now wasn’t the time for a fight when a tentative sort of truce seemed to have just been reached. Like Noct, they had to keep pushing forward, not focusing on the cards the past had dealt them.

So, Prompto moved to follow Gladio, only looking over his shoulder once. What he saw gave him hope—hope that Gladio would come around, that they really would make it through the trials ahead, that somehow they could mend the cracks in their brotherhood.

What he saw was Noct taking a few steps towards Ignis, standing closer than he had since he’d woken up at the Leville, and tentatively reaching out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. What he saw was Ignis wrapping an arm around Noct’s back and hugging him briefly to his side in silent solidarity—and forgiveness that Noct desperately needed. What he saw was glue stretching between them as they separated and made to follow him.

He saw understanding and acceptance in Gladio’s face when he reluctantly agreed to stop in Tenebrae before the last stretch of their journey. He saw something akin to grudging approval on Gladio’s face when Noct said they would push onward, but not at Ignis’s expense. He saw glue pulling the four of them closer as they offered their support to Ignis and boarded the train again.

_We’re okay. We’re all okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's that! As always, a few notes:
> 
> 1\. I was a bit dissatisfied with the end of the scene in the mine. It seemed at first that there would be something between Noct and Ignis, which didn't happen in the game. This is how I thought it may have gone if we didn't transport immediately back to the station. 
> 
> 2\. Prompto's discomfort with the royal arms and resolve to stay outside the tombs is due to the fact that Noct is shown alone in the tombs later in the game, without the others inside with him. 
> 
> 3\. Not to quote Ardyn, but there's totally no air of foreboding at the end. Not at all. Well, maybe a bit--once again, I left it here for a reason. The train is another tale all its own, so expect that in the future. 
> 
> So, that's the end of this installment! Thank you so much for sticking with me, especially when my update times have had to increase a bit from being sick and generally being busy in real life. I appreciate all of your wonderful feedback, whether in comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, or just making that "count" statistic tick up a number. You guys are fantastic, and I'm so glad you've gone on this adventure with me so far! Thank you so much. :) 
> 
> That said, the next installment will take us into something unprecedented for this series: Noctis's point of view! Stay tuned for that in the coming days. Also, I am planning a slightly canon divergent multi-chapter fic for when I finish with this series. It was inspired in part by the Pitioss Dungeon theory by Reddit user perona77, which is AMAZING and very much recommended if you haven't already seen it! It's not something I'll be posting for a while and won't be part of this series as it is, like I said, canon divergent. Regardless, I hope it will be something you'll be interested in reading! 
> 
> Thank you so much again for following this series and being such a wonderful audience! Until the next installment, walk tall, my friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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